


Heaven Sent

by sunalso



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, Claiming Bites, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2018-11-04 02:22:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 66,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10981374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: S3 AU. Someone beat Spike to killing Buffy. When she crawls from her grave with fangs in place, he finds his whole world turned upside down. With both the Council and the Initiative hot on their tails and a mayor gunning for his ascension, what's a turned Slayer and a (former) Big Bad Vamp to do?Beta'd by Gort.Archived at AO3 and EF ONLY!Please read the WARNING. **permanent WIP** Buffy and Spike end up in a good spot





	1. Did It Hurt?

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This story is erotica. There's going to be a lot of non-vanilla sex (including: oral, anal, toy use (and not just on/by Buffy), role-play, some bondage, light BDSM, and orgasm delay if I can work it in. Plus other kinks: public sex, clothed sex, dirty talk, and anything else I feel like tossing in at the last minute. Frequently blood-play will be included. There's also a plot and character development that go along with all the above ;-) This fic is easily the smuttiest thing I've ever written. If that makes you grin: yay! I hope you enjoy the ride! If this doesn't sound like your cup of tea: cool! No worries, I'll catch you next go around!

Couldn’t anything ever go bloody right?

Spike kicked a headstone, which made him stagger. He quickly drank the end of the bottle of whisky in his hand before he could spill it.

“Schtupid Schlayer,” he slurred as he hurled the bottle so it broke against the side of a crypt.

The bint couldn’t have waited two more days to die? The whole thing made no sense. She’d been found in a graveyard, dead as a doornail, with fang marks on her neck and no blood in her body. No one knew what vamp had done her in. To Spike it sounded like a sodding fairy tale. Or maybe a set up. Like the Council had found out about her deal with him and offed her, making it look like a vampire. Yeah, that had to be it. He’d lost Dru to that blasted truce and she’d lost, well, everything.

Spike found the grave. He told himself he hadn’t really been looking for it. It was a pretty, white marble, with her name and date of birth and death carved on it, along with the words ‘Beloved Daughter’. Nothing about being the Slayer or saving the world. Sorry thing, that. She’d been a darned good one.

He sat down on freshly turned ground and lit a smoke.  “S’pose I’m shupposed to dance,” he muttered, but he didn’t feel much like it. All the miles he’d traveled getting here he’d been thinking about killing the Slayer. He hadn’t spent any time thinking about her actually being dead. He’d even dreamed about her while he’d slept. Though those dreams hadn’t involved much killing. And if he’d wanked a time or two (or fifty) over the Slayer, it wasn’t anybody’s business but his own.

Now he wasn’t going to get to fight her. Or trade snarky remarks. Or even see the chit.

Oh god, he was going to cry.

He let the cigarette dangle from his fingers as he rested his arms on his bent knees. Bowing his head, he cursed himself as a pathetic excuse for a vampire.

The dirt underneath him…moved. He squinted at it. Spike knew he was rip-roaring drunk, but usually that didn’t involve hallucinating. Without so much as a by-your-leave, a hand broke through the dirt right between his legs. It flailed and managed to grab his crotch for a second before he threw himself to the side with a less than manly yip.  A second hand joined the first and Spike was looking at the yellow eyes and fangs of a demon.

“Where is he?” it snarled. Spike’s eyes trailed over the pink dress, pearls, torn pantyhose, and ridiculous black pumps the vampire was wearing. She snarled, he belatedly amended. Christ, she was the most adorable thing ever. All piss and vinegar right out of her grave.

Her grave.

Bloody hell, some idiot had turned the Slayer.

“Where’s who?” he asked. He recognized her now, even though she was still wearing the cutest bumps and fangs he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Angel!” she snapped. “He comes back from hell, I try to take care of his stupid ass, and then I get a paper cut and it’s fun times for Buffy.” She looked around, frowning, before her gaze fell on Spike. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged and got to his feet. “I came back to kill you.”

“Joke’s on you then.” She brushed dirt off her clothes.

“Yeah, looks like.” He took a tiny step closer to her. He didn’t have a plan, but she was so pretty and such a spitfire that he really wanted to touch her.

“Did you scare anyone away?” she asked, sounding hopeful.

“Just me out here.” He took another little step. Buffy smelled delicious. When she’d been alive it’d been good, but this was something else entirely, especially with the note that said family. His nostrils flared as he drank her in.

She sighed. “Great. Didn’t Giles even think about the fact I might have been turned?”

“Do you want to dust?”

“No,” she sniffed. “It just seems like I should have rated higher on the worry scale.”

“Maybe the poor bloke is busy mourning you by finding the bottom of a bottle.” Spike could understand that, though at the moment his drunken state seemed to have disappeared. He stalked closer to her. She was in arm’s reach now.

“Are you trying to be sneaky?” she said, disdain dripping from her words.

Balls.

Giving up, he grabbed her arms and pulled her against him. He pressed his face against her throat as he gulped in lungfuls of her scent.

“Uh, what’re you doing?” she asked.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said against her neck before flicking the end of his tongue against her soft skin.

Buffy laughed. “Beer goggles much?”

“It’s the bloody truth!” he snapped, his head coming up so that he was looking into her yellow eyes.

“Sure. You have noticed the stupid ridges I can’t seem to get rid of? I have to look hideous.”

“You’re perfect,” he breathed. “Look at me, Buffy.” She did and he slowly let his own demon-face emerge. Her eyes got very wide.

“Oh,” she said. Her hands went to his face to run over the dips and ridges. “Spike.” She groaned the last and it undid him. He slammed his mouth into hers and it felt so amazingly right he couldn’t believe he’d existed without her before now.

He backed her up until they ran into the marker for her grave. Picking her up, he sat her on the top and wedged himself between her legs. She rolled her hips, enthusiastically grinding her core against the front of his jeans. His cock was as hard as nails and straining against the zipper to get to her.

Buffy’s hands were under his duster, and then under his shirt. He hissed as she scraped her nails over his back. In answer, she nipped at his lips with her fangs. Oh damn, he was either going to come harder than he ever had in his life or dust. Or maybe dust from coming so hard.

He pushed the skirt of her pink dress up and tore open the crotch of her pantyhose. A swipe of his finger had her levitating off the marble and mewling his name. She was wet as hell. He rubbed her clit and she eagerly undulated her hips. When he pushed first one, and then two, fingers inside her, he went lightheaded at how hard she gripped him.

“Need more,” she gasped as her hands ran down his chest to undo his belt buckle. She made short work of it, and the button and zipper of his fly as well. Her hand wrapped around his shaft and brought it out to play. The appreciative noise she made did all kinds of wonderful things for his ego.

He wanted her with a fierceness he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. His fingers replaced hers on his cock and he lined himself up with her dripping channel.

Abruptly she froze. “Erm…”

“Problem?” he gasped out hoarsely. “I pinky swear that I won’t get you pregnant.”

She giggled against his shoulder. “No, I…just…I’ve only done it once before and that was in the missionary position.”

Oh, big surprise, sodding Angel would go for the traditional style to deflower a virgin. Spike hadn’t really felt one way or the other about Angel having been the one to turn Buffy, but the thought of him having been the one to take her body first made Spike greener than a martian.

He’d make her forget there’d ever been anyone else inside her.

Spike dropped his free hand down so it was gripping her hip as he slammed his entire length into her. If she had time to think about Angel, Spike figured he was doing something wrong. Buffy keened and it was music to his ears. Spike traced his tongue up her throat. “You’re doing fine, luv. Right now, all we want is a hard, fast, fuck. Squeeze those brilliant pussy muscles you’ve got tight around me and I’ll do most of the work. Next time–or maybe the time after that–we’ll have a proper bed and I’ll teach you everything you’ll ever need to know while I make you come over, and over, and over, and over again.”

“Yes,” she moaned. He wasn’t sure he’d been asking a question.

He secured his grip on both her hips and happily rutted into her eager and willing body. Like he’d asked her to, she gripped him with her snatch while her hands fluttered against his chest and shoulders. She felt far better than any dream or fantasy he’d ever had, the reality outshining the imagined like a sun next to a candle.

Her girlish mewls turned into wilder demonic snarls and growls as her peak approached. It was delightful. Her lips went to his neck and as she climaxed she bit down, making his hips buck even harder. Her pussy walls pulsed around him and he was lost to her.

“Oh god, Buffy, my Buffy,” he moaned as he continued to plow her tight channel. She licked at the tiny trickle of blood that was seeping from the barely-there wounds she’d given him. The sweet movement of her tongue and the sound of her swallowing his blood sent him over. His entire body stiffened as he came, his fingers digging into the soft curves of her hips. His cock spasmed as he emptied himself into her. He could have sworn he was flying. When he came back to himself, it was to find that Buffy was purring delightedly. He sagged and pulled her against his chest.

Fuck. He felt wrung out. He’d had some good times before but this…this had gone beyond that. The girl in his arms was special. He ran his hands over her back and murmured to her, telling her how amazing she was, how beautiful, how he couldn’t wait to go again. Finally, he let his own contented purring take over and he simply held her.

“Buffy?” said a confused and gruff voice from behind him. Spike tensed, terrified that he’d been so wrapped up in Buffy that he had let danger approach them unheeded.

Buffy sighed. “Hang on a minute, Giles.”

Oh, just terrific, it was her bloody Watcher. At least Spike could only hear a single heartbeat so it appeared the tosser had come alone. Buffy shifted so his cock slid from her body and she hurriedly tucked him away and did back up his pants. He almost felt slighted at how perfunctory she was about it, but then she grinned a little sheepishly and gave his prick a fond little pat. Okay, that was good, she’d be coming back for more.

Spike disentangled his limbs from hers and spun to face the Watcher, who was standing there with a stake in his hand, only that hand was hanging loosely at his side and he had a puzzled expression on his face. Buffy hopped down off her tombstone and stood beside Spike.

Giles’ eyes narrowed as he finally seemed to recognize Spike. “You!” he spat, shaking the stake at Spike like it was a ruler.

“Oh, it wasn’t him,” Buffy said with a wave of her hand. “Angel came back and, while he has his soul, he still managed to do this. Yay!”

The Watcher paled. “Angel?”

“Yeah.” Buffy sniffed. “I should probably find him and dust him.”

“We,” Spike said so softly only she could hear. Buffy beamed up at him.

“So then why…” Giles swallowed hard. “What are you doing here, and why are you…”

“Shagging me?” Spike said and Buffy lightly slapped arm.

“Hey,” she groused, but there was no real malice to it.

“You can get rougher than that, kitten,” he said with a leer. “Makes it right interesting.”

Her eyebrows drew together like she was honestly considering what he’d said. Well, that was just neat.

The Watcher cleared his throat. Spike had nearly forgotten the bloke was there.

Buffy glanced at Giles and shrugged. “That’s complicated. Spike was here to kill me, but it turns out he didn’t need to.” She sighed and slipped her hand into his. “And he smells good.”

Spike felt like he was on cloud nine. “She’s really pretty.”

Giles looked like he was hoping for a heart attack. “Have you fed yet?”

“Nope, got busy,” she said while giving Spike’s hand a squeeze. He squeezed back. “Spike smells really, really good.”

“Uh, I’m sure.” Giles pulled his glasses off his face and then stared at them like he’d forgotten what he’d been planning to do. “I don’t suppose you still have your soul?”

“Sorry.” She pouted and Spike found himself longing to suck on that pump lip. They really needed to ditch the Watcher and find a hotel. And dinner. Dinner sounded bloody wonderful to him and she, as a fledge, had to be starving. “I’m soul free,” Buffy continued. “Though oddly enough, I still feel like me. Giles, shouldn’t I be wanting to rip your guts out just because?”

Spike frowned, she had a point.

“Information on turned Slayers is rare,” her Watcher said guardedly. “Though what I have found did suggest your experience would be somewhat different than the norm for a new vampire.”

Buffy bit her lip and one fang sliced her skin in the process, sending a tickle of blood careened down her chin. The scent hit Spike like a ton of bricks. He had her face in his hands and was licking it off before he’d even had time to think about it.

There was a polite cough. Reluctantly, Buffy put a hand on his chest and pushed him away. Spike whimpered, missing her taste.

“Look, this will probably get me killed.” The Watcher swiveled his head left and right as if expecting something to pounce that instant. “But I have to warn you, Buffy, that both the Council and another group that I know very little about are here in town asking about you and your death.”

“We’re alone,” Spike said simultaneously with Buffy.

“Jinx,” she giggled. “You owe me a diet coke.”

“Sure, pet.”

Giles sighed loudly. “So Buffy, I can’t…I’d rather know you’re alright than dust. And that probably makes me a bad person, but I came here in the hopes of finding you and offering you sanctuary for a few days until you can safely leave.”

“And Spike,” Buffy added, her face serious. Her demon features melted away. Spike was shocked by her including him and his hand squeezed hers. “Plus, truce. You don’t try to dust us and we don’t try to make a snack out of you.”

“Of course,” the Watcher said wearily.

Spike furrowed his brow as he tried to come up with a plan. “I have my car here. We’ll hide it and meet you at your flat in a few. Do you have anything else for Buffy to wear?”

Giles nodded. “She always has extra clothes stashed at my apartment in case of incidents during patrol.”

“Right, see you shortly.”

“I have blood at my place, Buffy, if you don’t wish to…” Giles trailed off.

To Spike’s surprise, Buffy nodded. “No killing. I get it.”

The Watcher huffed, crossed his arms, and left.

“You agreed to the no killing part easily enough,” Spike said.

Buffy shrugged a shoulder. “It’s no biggie. For some reason I’m really not all that hungry, which is weird, but whatever. Now where’s this car of yours?”

“This way, pet.” He tugged at her hand.

“Does it have a big backseat?”

He glanced back at Buffy, who was wearing her fangs again. For the very first time Spike realized what heaven might be like.


	2. Is That A Mirror In Your Pocket?

 

Dying had sucked, big time. The worst had been that she’d still been slightly conscious–probably something to do with being a Slayer–when Angel had stopped drinking and started crying. He’d said how sorry he was, how much he loved her, and then he’d turned her. Yup, that was love.

When Buffy had woken up in a coffin she hadn’t been surprised. Breaking the lid and climbing out hadn’t been a picnic, but not needing to breathe had helped a lot on that front.

Her demon was more of an annoyance than anything else. It felt like she had a thing living in her brain that was both her and separate. It was almost easier to think of it as separate. She should name it because so far she’d just called it bitch, and while the demon didn’t seem to mind so much, Buffy wasn’t sure if she should go around referring to part of herself like that. Though if the shoe fit…Bitch it was.

Spike, whose hand she was holding and whose come was currently running down her leg, had been a hell of a surprise. She’d expected Angel, morose and brooding, to be there to try and make her a good little vampire. Not to mention Giles and maybe even the other Scoobies, either to curse her or to dust her. Finding Spike instead had felt like winning the lottery. He smelled so yummy and how had she never noticed before how good he looked? Especially with his fangs. She wanted to strip him naked and memorize every last bit of him with her tongue.

Apparently dying and losing her soul had resulted in her being horny. Buffy had expected hungry, but she hadn’t been even remotely tempted to drain Giles. Bitch didn’t seem too worried about it, so Buffy wasn’t either. The rest of the being a vampire stuff could sort itself out later as well.

Spike’s car was haphazardly parked in the cemetery’s small, gravel lot. He opened one of the rear doors and Buffy eagerly jumped in. Spike took off his duster, tossed it in the front, and climbed in behind her, slamming the door closed. He crawled up her body and his lips were on hers once again, right where they belonged. Buffy wrapped her arms around Spike’s neck. God, he was addicting.

He kissed down her throat and she arched her back, rubbing her breasts against him as she threaded her fingers into his hair. His hand delved between their bodies and found her clit, rubbing it in perfect little circles. She gasped and the smells of the car filled her nose: leather, booze, cigarettes, and…what the hell?

Um, no.

Buffy could distinctly detect the scent of another female vampire. Her hands went from caressing to shoving Spike roughly back against the door as she retreated to the far end of the bench seat. She snarled at him.

“What the bleeding hell was that for?” he growled.

Like he didn’t know! Toying with her when he had Drusilla. Jealousy was a raging inferno inside her. _Slice that ho into ribbons, tear her limbs off, rip her lungs out through her back_ , Bitch was whispering.

“Buffy?” Spike asked, his face betraying his confusion.

Rage was close to completely taking over. “Where is she?” Buffy hissed. Her fangs were itching to slaughter the other woman.

“Who?”

Now she wanted to break Spike’s nose because he was being so thick.

“Your whore!”

His eyebrow shot up, but then he sighed. “Drusilla.”

“I can smell her! I’m going to use her liver to beat her to death!” Buffy howled her anguish. Abruptly, Bitch receded and Buffy found herself sobbing instead. “You’re going to go back to her any second.”

Spike turned away from her, sitting in the seat and leaning against the door. His human features reappeared as he hugged himself. “I came here to kill you and bring her your head to prove how much I love her so she’d take me back. She’s been letting every Tom, Dick, and Harry have a go at her goodies except me.”

Buffy used the hem of her torn pink dress to dab at her tears. Spike sounded so sad.

Which just meant the slut needed to die even more.

Buffy was confused. Jealousy was ripping holes in her very being. She looked at Spike, who was slumped down in the seat with his eyes fixed on his boots. Bitch seemed as lost and mixed up as she was. _Um…maim_? it prodded, but Buffy wasn’t sure it was serious anymore.

All she was sure of was that she wanted Spike in the worst way possible for no apparent reason–cripes! She didn’t even like him–and he didn’t want her. Not really. Just like her dad. And apparently, Angel. Her own Sire had left her high and dry. Maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. Angelus had made it pretty clear she was a terrible lay. She frowned. She was a vampire, no risk of relieving Angel of that pesky soul now, and he still wasn’t interested in her.

Her entire body trembled. Spike was still staring at his boots. Oh no. He’d had two seconds to think about it and he realized she wasn’t worth another go.

Buffy panicked. He felt as necessary as blood to her and he didn’t want her.

Sobbing, she wrenched open the door and tumbled out onto the gravel. She slammed the door closed. Spike was out the other side of the car in a flash. “What’s going on, luv? Buffy?”

“Like you don’t know!” she wailed as she struggled back to her feet. Damn pantyhose.

Spike clenched his hands into fists. “What?” he roared.

Still crying, she took off running. Maybe after a while she could go to Giles and get something to eat, but she needed to hide first, to cry herself out at being rejected by yet another man. And this one hurt so much. Even Bitch was howling in pain now.

Her tears blurred her vision and she never saw the dark shape on the roof of the crypt until it landed on top of her, pinning her to the ground. The vampire grasped both of her flailing fists and restrained them over her head.

“What the bloody fuck are you doing?” Spike growled around his fangs. Why did he have to be so pretty?

“Getting away from you!”

He rolled his demon-yellow eyes. “Let me rephrase the sodding question. Why are you running away from me?”

“Because you don’t want me!”

His brows drew together. “I don’t?”

“You want your dumb girlfriend and you think I’m a lousy lay!” She tried to buck him off her, but was unsuccessful. She settled for letting her features return to those of the demon and growling at Spike.

“Right,” he said slowly. “Let’s go with I’m really confused here.”

“You’re stupid,” she grumped.

He bent down and rubbed his face against her neck. Buffy couldn’t help the stab of lust that shot through her body. Spike made a contented, rumbly noise and pushed her harder against the ground while tightening his grip on her wrists. Bitch immediately did a demon happy dance.

“I’m not about to leave you,” Spike whispered against her neck. Horrifically, Buffy found herself purring at his words. “I don’t know what’s going on, not in the least, but my entire being is screaming for you.” He pressed his cheek against hers. “You’re magnificent, kitten. Want to be by your side wherever life may take us.” His demon melted away and he looked terribly vulnerable. “Please, Buffy. I promise I’ll be worthy.”

She felt powerful in that moment and Bitch was downright preening. However, it was all making her feel completely mixed-up. “But…I don’t like you,” she said hesitantly.

“Don’t like you much either. Proper stick-up the ass Slayer, you are.”

Buffy’s heart started to plummet, until she caught the twinkle in his eyes. “You’re an obnoxious pig.”

“You better believe it.”

“With bad hair.”

“Oi! Don’t go insulting the hair. At least I’m not dressed like a 1950s housewife.”

“That wasn’t my choice. I was caught dead in this outfit,” she sniffed. “What’s your excuse?”

“I look smashing in this get up.”

She opened her mouth, but couldn’t come up with an insult because he kind of did.

“Now what about that second part? The lousy lay bit?”

Buffy couldn’t look at him. Her eyes skittered to the side and she focused on the swaying tops of distant palm trees. “I’ll get better, I promise.” Her voice came out sounding very tiny. “I’m a quick learner, just tell me what I can do better.”

Spike let go of one of her wrists and caught her chin in his hand. “Buffy, you were perfect. I thought I might dust from how good you felt. Why would you think you…” he trailed off as he studied her face. “Oh, that fucker. That bloody, idiotic, sodding–“ His words became an incoherent growl. “I’m going to kill him. Rip his testicles out through his eye sockets!”

Bitch was thrilled at the promise of violence and seeing Spike getting worked up on her behalf was making her dreamy eyed.

“That was nothing but a pile of shite that arse was feeding you!” Spike snarled. She cupped his cheek with her hand. “Oh, luv, you make me feel like I could fly.” He nuzzled against her palm.

“And that’s good, right?” She wanted to believe him so badly it hurt. Spike ground his hips against her and she could feel his erection.

“Want you,” he panted. “Would have never stopped if we hadn’t been interrupted.”

She smashed her mouth into his, uncaring as both his and her fangs cut her lips and blood welled up and down the side of her face. Spike made a needy sound deep in his chest and his hand descended between their bodies. Impatiently, he ripped at his fly and button went flying off into the darkness. In the next instant, his cock was inside her.

Buffy cinched her legs around his waist as he pounded into her. Bitch was demanding more, harder, faster. It wanted pain along with the pleasure. Buffy pulled her other hand free and raked both of them down Spike’s back, shredding his shirt. He groaned in ecstasy and rolled them over. Even if she didn’t know quite what to do, Bitch sure did and she was quickly riding him hard and fast into oblivion while digging her claws into him.

Her orgasm caught her by surprised and she howled like an animal before collapsing forward onto Spike’s chest. He pushed her off of him and she whimpered, fear of rejection returning briefly until he positioned her on all fours and entered her from behind. He twisted her hair around his fist and yanked her partially upright while he continued to jackhammer her pussy with bruising force. His hand grabbed her breast and roughly squeezed.

Buffy put a hand between her legs and her fingers ghosted over where her lover’s cock was sliding in and out of her channel. Spike grunted his approval. Tearing her pantyhose further, she rubbed her clit, surprised at how swollen it was. She’d gotten herself off before, but it’d never felt so distended and needy. Side effect of being a vampire, maybe?

Spike yanked harder on her hair and the pain had her tumbling into another orgasm. When he let go of her tresses she fell forward, barely catching herself with her hands. Both of Spike’s hands were on her hips now and his claws were sunk into her flesh. It felt good. She tried to keep up with his furious thrusting, only giving up when a third climax had her thighs quivering.

With a bestial roar, he came and she squeezed her inner muscles, milking him of every drop of his come.  When his cock stopped pulsing, he pulled out and flopped down beside her. His demon disappeared as he cuddled her to his chest. “Never letting you go,” he said against the top of her head.

That felt exactly right. “Better not.”  Bitch receded and Buffy found herself feeling exhausted. 

“Tired,” she mumbled, closing her eyes and snuggling against Spike.

“Buffy?” His voice sounded like it was coming from very far away. “Luv? Christ, you need to eat.”

“Tired,” she said again. Just a little nap, that’s all she needed, cradled in Spike’s arms.

There was the snap of a twig somewhere nearby. Instantly Spike was on his feet, pulling her along with him. “Open your eyes,” he hissed. She did so and blearily stumbled along beside him back to the car. When he opened the door, she balked. “What the hell is wrong now?” He glanced over his shoulder towards the cemetery.

“It’s still going to smell wrong,” she said quietly. “I don’t think…the demon…”

Spike looked heavenward but didn’t argue. Instead he grabbed her shoulder with one hand and stuck two fingers up her pussy and wiggled them around before pulling them back out. He got in the car and dragged the fingers coated in her cream and his come over the dash and seats. She stood still as he repeated the process, this time wiping their combined essence over the back seat.

“There,” he announced, getting out. “Now it bloody well reeks to high heaven of you and me and your demon can stop pitching a fit.”

He held the driver’s side door open for her and she sat down and scooted over. Almost fearfully, she took a deep breath through her nose, and relaxed as the only scent was of her and Spike.

“Thank you,” she said, beyond grateful as Spike sat in the driver’s seat and started the car.

“Believe it or not, I actually understand.” His voice was terse and she wondered what the story behind that statement was. She’d have to ask him later, when she wasn’t so tired. Yawning, Buffy stretched out on the bench seat as much as she could, pillowing her head on Spike’s thigh. Her dress and pantyhose were thoroughly ruined, but she didn’t care.

“There’s a girl,” Spike murmured. “Get some rest. We’ll get you to your Watcher’s soon enough and get some dinner into you.” As they pulled out of the cemetery’s parking lot, Spike cast one more fretful gaze over his shoulder, but then relaxed and pet her hair. Bitch seemed to already be dozing, so Buffy let herself drift off, secure in the knowledge that her once enemy, now lover, would keep her safe.


	3. Do You Have A Quarter?

She wouldn’t wake up. “Buffy,” he shook her again and at least this time she mumbled. Spike had parked the Desoto in the backyard shed of an abandoned house a block from the address Buffy had given him for her Watcher’s flat. Unable to wake her, he finally resorted to bodily dragging her out of the car.

That revived her enough that she mumbled: “Are we there yet?

“Just a bit to walk, can you do that?”

She scoffed. “Sure.” Taking a step, she promptly fell and Spike had to grab her before she crashed into a wooden crate that might have been her end. His demon roared to the surface in fear. “Uh,” she said. “I seem to have developed a small problem.”

“You need to feed,” he said from between gritted teeth.

“I don’t feel hungry, or thirsty.” There was a pause. “Was I made wrong?”

“No, luv, don’t think so. I have to hand it to the wanker, he seemed to have done a decent job by you.” It galled him to give Angel any credit, but Buffy seemed to have been turned proper, intended as family and not just a minion. “Might have something to do with you being a Slayer.”

“I was,” she mumbled as he scooped her up and began carrying towards her Watcher’s place.

“Still are. I can feel it. Maybe it’s a little hidden under the demon’s signature, but it’s there.”

“Cool.” She fell asleep again against his shoulder.

Fear made him walk faster. He hesitated only briefly before knocking on the bloke’s door. If the Watcher had wanted to do either of them in he could have easily done so while they’d been preoccupied at the cemetery. Buffy needed blood and shelter and Spike was running short of both those things.

Giles opened the door a crack, then swung it wider once he spotted who was on his doorstep. “What’d you do to her?” the Watcher hissed.

“That’s about bloody right!” Spike snapped. “It’s my fault the chit’s passed out. Thought I’d give her a good concussion before showing up here.”

The Watcher frowned.

Spike heaved a sigh. “She’s starving, you berk, I can’t keep her awake.”

“Oh, yes, well, Buffy, Spike, do come in.”  He stepped away from the door, but didn’t turn his back. Spike walked in and gingerly set Buffy on the couch. “Blood’s in the fridge,” the Watcher said. While Spike didn’t want to leave her alone, he was entirely too aware of how starved Buffy must be. In the kitchen he easily found the containers of blood in the fridge. He took two out and sniffed them, but they carried no telltale odors to suggest they were drugged. Spike put them on to heat in the microwave.

Returning to the door of the small kitchen, he sighed at finding the Watcher standing bolt upright in the living room, arms crossed, staring bewildered at Buffy. “She’s still a Slayer,” Spike said.

The Watcher started as if he’d forgotten Spike was even there. “So suggested what I’ve read.” Giles’ gaze left Buffy in order to scrutinize Spike. “Truthfully, I am not entire surprised by her actions. It’s you,” the word dripped with disdain, “that I am unable to figure out. What the hell are you doing?” Spike frowned. It seemed obvious: Buffy was his girl now. His frowned deepened. When exactly had that happened? Seemed a bit sudden, but that didn’t make the incessant pull of her any less demanding. His fangs descended and Giles took a step back. “I said she was a Slayer, you berk, not your Slayer.” If this old man tried to take her away…a growl rumbled through his chest. The Watcher’s face had gone pale.

“Spike?” Buffy’s voice was scared and soft. He was over the back of the couch in an instant and pulling her into his arms.

“I’m right here, luv. Just warming up dinner. Do you think you can eat?” He nuzzled his face into her hair, letting her scent wash over him.

“I think I better try.”

“Alright.” The microwave dinged. “I’ll be right back.” He settled Buffy back on the couch and hurried into the kitchen. She was still awake when he returned with the two large Styrofoam cups of blood. Buffy frowned, but took one from him as he sat down beside her. Her demon emerged as she sniffed the cup’s contents. Spike took that as a good sign. “Bottoms up.” He chugged his cup down to show her how it was done and slammed the empty down onto the coffee table. Surely she’d be able to get it down after that little demo.

She brought the cup to her lips, but wrinkled her adorable nose and set the still full cup on the table.

“Is something wrong, Buffy?” Giles asked, concerned. Spike very nearly went after the wanker. Of course something was wrong. She was a Slayer and a vampire. Drinking blood was the last nail in the coffin, so to speak, of cementing that into firm reality. Also, blood out of a cup wasn’t the same since there was nothing to sink you fangs into…

The lightbulb went on.

“I just can’t,” Buffy whispered.

“Could I get you a different kind?” Giles asked. “I think that’s pig, but I could get beef–“

“The flavor ain’t the sodding problem,” Spike snapped.  

“Oh, and I suppose you know what the problem is?” the Watcher angrily spat at him.

Spike smirked. “I’m a vampire, in case you bloody forgot, and she’s family and I’m blasted well hers. So yes, I do indeed know the problem.” He stroked the back of her hand with his fingers. Giles’ brow furrowed but he didn’t say anything. Spike took her cup of blood and downed the entire thing himself. Buffy looked surprised.

“Now see here,” Giles sputtered.

Ignoring him, Spike pulled Buffy over so she was sitting on his lap with her head cuddled against his shoulder. He cupped Buffy’s cheek with one hand and slowly turned his head to expose his throat to her. He guided her face to his neck and let go. She understood and her sweet tongue lapped against his skin. She tensed for the bite, but then stopped.

He twisted his head just enough to be able to look at her. She was glaring at Giles. “I can’t do this with you watching. Can you go away or something?”

“Buffy, I-“

“Go away.” With a sigh, the berk stomped off to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. Buffy immediately had her mouth back on Spike’s throat. She hesitated again. “I’m going to hurt you,” she said against his skin.

Spike felt his eyes roll up and his dick, which had been taking a passive interest in matters, sat up and started begging. He rolled his hips under her and ground his erection against her bottom. “Please do.”

Buffy scoffed, and then–Holy Fuck– her fangs were in his neck. Oh buggering, bloody…he wasn’t ready for this. He’d fed Dru this way a time or two and it’d always been so sweet. Truthfully, he’d been looking forward to that, holding her and feeling the warm rush between them. This wasn’t warm and it wasn’t a rush, it was a torrent of fire.

Every nerve ending he had was on high alert. Christ, he could freaking feel the individual molecules of air as they made paths across his skin. Buffy was moaning as she noisily drank from his neck and he couldn’t help but grind his aching prick against her ass. He bucked hard against her once, twice, and the third time he came, a garbled version of her name exploding from his lips as his cock spurted in his jeans.

Buffy was still wiggling and mewling and he used the hand not wrapped around her back to delve under her ridiculous skirt. The hole in her pantyhose was large enough that he had no trouble finding her clit. The poor thing was needy and swollen. With a few flicks of his finger over it she came, growling and biting down harder into his neck.

Oh, christ on a stick, he was hard again. He didn’t even try to pretend he was doing anything but getting off as he humped against her like a bleeding lunatic. She came three more times in rapid succession, her animalistic snarls getting louder with each one. The last time he slid two fingers inside her and pumped her while the walls of her pussy pulsed. It was like there was a direct line from his fingers to his cock and he was grunting and growling along with her as he spurted his load into his jeans again.

Buffy let go of his neck and sagged against his shoulder. “Uh,” she said.

“Uh,” he agreed. It was tempting to never move again, but the come he’d shot in his pants was quickly getting uncomfortable. “Your Watcher own a pair of non-tweed sweats I could use?” he asked.

Buffy ran her fingers over his cheek. “Upstairs.” Her eyes were bright and she looked filled out. Obviously the blood had done her good.

“Be right back, then.” She stood and stretched as he hastily ran upstairs. The loft was as neat and prim as the man himself and Spike had no trouble finding a faded grey pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt to replace his torn one. He cleaned himself off with a couple of tissues from the box on Giles’ nightstand, which made Spike wonder what the Watcher kept under his mattress.

Spike did a double take when he got back downstairs. Buffy was sitting on the couch again, wearing a tiny pair of athletic shorts and a white shirt he could see her nipples through. She’d pulled her hair up into a ponytail and was reading a copy of Seventeen–which Spike hoped wasn’t what Giles kept under his mattress–and tapping a pencil against her lips. She looked normal, like she should stand up and stake him.

Buffy glanced up at him. “Washer’s that way,” she said, indicating the end of the hallway past the bathroom.               

“Ta, pet.”  

Buffy went back to her magazine, but there was a little, self-satisfied smile playing over her lips. It made him wish this was their place and he could just pounce on her and show her smug. Instead he carried his pants down the hallway, stopping to bang on the bathroom door. “You can come out now, we’re done.”

Giles stuck his head out and gave Spike a weird look as he dropped his jeans in the washer. Heaving a sigh, the Watcher shuffled back out to the living room. It sounded like the git nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw what Buffy was wearing.

“Why is Spike washing his jeans?” Giles asked weakly.

“Accident,” Buffy said primly. Spike snorted.

“Um, accident?”

Spike closed the lid of the washer and hurried back to mouth of the hallway, he didn’t want to miss this.

Buffy had her eyebrows raised.

Giles was fidgeting. “Are you okay? Things sounded like they got…violent.”

“I’m just fine.” She looked like she was repressing giggles.

“Oh, I–“ He pulled his glasses off. “I though perhaps blood had...and that was the reason for…” Giles gestured vaguely in the direction of the hallway.

“Seriously?” Buffy said. “Do I need to explain vampires biting and the bees?”

Giles started coughing. Spike sauntered out of the hallway and sat down next to Buffy. She kissed his cheek.

Once the Watcher could breathe again, he headed to his bookcase and pulled out a deliciously expensive looking bottle of scotch and poured himself a tumbler full. Spike thought about asking for a glass, because it was terribly rude of Giles not to offer, but Spike decided to just wait and steal the whole damn bottle later.

Giles took a large gulp. “Buffy, you don’t seem terribly upset by what’s happened to you. This was your worst nightmare.”

Buffy frowned. “No, getting killed by the Master was my worst nightmare. Me coming back as a vamp was yours.”

Spike put an arm around her, because he’d felt her shiver at the mention of the Master. If the wanker hadn’t already been toast, Spike would have headed out then and there to do him in.

“Yes, quite right.” Giles was staring down into his drink.

“I’m doing okay, for now,” Buffy said. She leaned against Spike. “It probably hasn’t all hit yet. Like I can’t go out and work on my tan this weekend. And I’d just bought a cute new bikini too.” She pouted.

“Could still wear the bikini,” Spike pointed out. She pinched him, but not all that hard.

“And am I still going to want to go do Slayer things, like patrol? I have no idea. And why, why, why wasn’t my Sire waiting for me? Did Angel have an appointment with his stylist he couldn’t miss?” Her eyes flashed gold. “But then it’s confusing because if Angel was there, then Spike wouldn’t have been…” She trailed off.

“Oh darn,” Giles muttered under his breath, but Buffy heard it.

She jumped to her feet in full gameface. “Spike is not negotiable, do you understand? He is mine.” Spike’s heart did a happy dance at her words. “You do not threaten him, look at him funny, or even think about him unless I say you can.”

Giles downed the rest of his scotch. “I’ve got it, Buffy. But, to go back a bit, before my inopportune remark, I think we do need to find your Sire.”

“So I can kill him? Slowly? Maybe remove his head a centimeter at a time?”

Spike’s face shifted as his demon joined in. “You won’t be alone, luv. I’m going to shove the wanker’s balls down his own throat.”

Giles’ eyes were wide. “I was thinking perhaps we should talk to him. And there’s usually a bond between a fledge and their Sire–“

It was Spike’s turn to launch himself to his feet. His roar as he did so silenced the Watcher and had him retreating until he was flush against his bookcase. “Angelus forfeited any right he had to her when he forsook her at her grave tonight.” Spike glanced over at Buffy, who looked like she was on the verge of collapsing. Oh balls, she was probably terrified the arsehole would sweep in and carry her off. Spike pulled her into a hug. “He can’t take you without your consent, Buffy. And you’re mine. Hell will be a ski resort before I let that happen.”

She nodded weakly.  

“Watcher,” Spike growled. “You’ve got the couch tonight. I’m taking my girl upstairs. We need to talk, alone, and then she needs to rest. It’s been a bloody rough day on her.”

Spike took Buffy’s hand and she followed him up the stairs with no complaint. Behind them he could hear the Watcher pouring himself another Scotch.


	4. Do You Have a Name?

Buffy settled onto her Watcher’s neatly made bed, sitting cross-legged near the middle of it. Spike climbed onto the mattress from the other side and mirrored her posture. She grabbed one of his hands and brought it to her face. He pressed his palm against her cheek and she nuzzled into his touch, breathing deep to draw his scent into her.

Bitch was hovering just beneath the surface, content for now with Spike’s closeness, but ready to appear if needed.

“I’m kind of wigging out that I’m not more wigged out,” Buffy said.

The corners of Spike’s lips turned up. “Give it time. You haven’t even been a vampire for twelve hours yet.”

Buffy frowned. Had it not even been half a day yet? She brought Spike’s hand to rest on her leg and interwove her fingers with his. She wanted to crawl into his lap but forced herself to stay where she was. They really did need to talk. “I think we need to have plan. Should we just get in your car and leave? Forget Sunnydale?”

Spike pursed his lips. “As much as I’d like to do that I’m not sure it’s a great idea. It sounds like there might be more than one group interested in a turned Slayer and your Watcher is the only person we know is on your side. Plus, he’s our only sodding source of information, and to be honest I’m not sure your blasted Slayer instincts aren’t going to kick back in sooner or later, spurred on by your demonic ones, and you’re going to need to hunt and kill.”

“Demons,” Buffy said, wanting to make sure Spike understood that. She might be a vampire, but that didn’t mean she had to haul off and slaughter people. And if Spike still wanted to, well, that was a bridge to cross when they got there.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved a hand.

“What about my Sire? He’s going to show up sooner or later. What’s going to happen?” Angel appearing and being able to somehow just take over had become her biggest fear. Which was wig worthy in its own right. Part of her recognized that at one point she would have been okay with that, even welcomed it. Hadn’t she loved him?

Bitch seethed. _Spike_ , it whispered.

“How should I bloody know?” He looked away from her and his hand slid off her leg to pick at lint on the comforter.

Her mind floundered. But he was supposed to know and to tell her it was all going to be alright. “You told Giles that Angel wouldn’t be able to do anything to me that I don’t want.”

“But I can’t read your sodding mind. How do I know what you want? You could be thinking about all the ways you’re going to shag the bastard from here to eternity.”

Buffy felt her jaw drop open. Spike’s eyes were fixed on a point to the side of her. The bastard, who she’d told she was planning on being with for pretty much forever, had thought she’d lied?

Said bastard was still talking. “He could show up with his soul and his forehead and his ‘I had you first’ and you’d just go running off with him without a backwards glance.” Spike’s voice changed to a mocking falsetto, “Oh, Angel, I want to suck your dick so bad! Let’s be together forever and ever!” Spike poked harder at the mattress and dropped his voice. “Of course, Buffy. I’ll fuck your mouth all day, right after we stop at the corner store so I can stock up on hair gel and self-loathing.”

Okay, that was it.

Bitch surged to the surface as she tackled Spike with a feral growl. Her hands pinned his and her legs trapped his. She snapped her fangs millimeters from his nose and another snarl erupted from her throat.

“I don’t know what you’re doing up there,” Giles’ voice wafted from the living room. “But it’s getting loud.”

“We’re having a fight,” Buffy hollered back.

“Oh, in that case, carry on.”

Spike was struggling against her, his own demon at the fore, but she found she was able to keep him from bucking her off. “Let go of me, you crazy bint.”

“No. Not until you admit I know who I want to be with!”

Spike stopped struggling and sagged against the mattress. Bitch was giddy at his submission. Buffy lowered her head down and mouthed the front of his throat, pressing her fangs against his skin but not quite breaking it.

Spike whimpered and pushed up against her again, but this time it was only his pelvis as he rubbed his hard-on against her.

“Who’s winning?” Giles called.

“I think I am,” Buffy replied, removing her mouth from Spike’s neck.

“Good, I leave you to it, then.”

Buffy put her lips beside Spike’s ear. “The only one who’s going to fuck my mouth is you.” She hesitated. Boy, regular not-vampire-Buffy really wouldn’t have said that. Her grip on Spike’s wrists faltered.

In the blink of an eye, Spike had their positions reversed. His tongue trailed a path up her neck to her ear. “Alright, luv. We can do that. Later. Need to be inside your tight cunt right now.” Bitch agreed with that wholeheartedly and Buffy’s pussy pulsed with lust… huh, regular-Buffy wouldn’t have liked hearing Spike say that either.

Regular-Buffy could fuck off.

She grabbed Spike’s shirt and yanked so that he had to pause and pull it off himself. Her toes hooked into the waistband of his pants and pushed them down and off. She was desperate to get as much of her skin as possible against him.

In the living room there was a string of muttered oaths and the sound of Giles stomping around. A few seconds later the blender in the kitchen began whirring on its high setting. What the hell could Giles be making? Margaritas?

She forgot about the noise as Spike’s hand glided under the hem of her shirt and slid across her stomach. With a frustrated growl, she pushed him away and drug her shirt off over her head. She dropped it on the floor beside the bed and her shorts and panties followed. Spike was pumping his erection and watching her with hooded eyes. Slowly, she lay back down and he prowled up her form, stopping to nuzzle her breasts. His clever tongue lapped at her nipples and his lips drew them into taut peaks. Her world narrowed down until there was nothing but the feel of his mouth on her.

Desire was traveling in molten waves from her breasts to her pussy. Cream was dripping from her opening and coating her thighs and ass. The scent was heavy in the air, along with the deeper note she now recognized as belonging to the pearly fluid that leaked from the tip of Spike’s cock when he was hard.

The smell was so enticing she almost asked to be allowed to taste him, but he was already surging up her body and sliding his erection into her as his mouth fastened on hers. With a deft motion, he rolled them onto their sides and helped her hike her leg over his hip. They were pressed together from toes to forehead and heaven was in the soft slide of his stomach against hers, the press of his claws into her back, and the stretch of her pussy walls around his cock.

She opened her mouth, meaning to tell him how amazing he felt, but what tumbled out was: “My bellybutton likes yours.”

Spike chuckled. “You’re the most bloody wonderful thing in creation.”

Buffy couldn’t help but believe him. He was so sincere, with his amber eyes looking deep into hers. “You too,” she breathed. Spike groaned and his claws dug in harder, the bright points of pain pleasing Bitch to no end. _He wants us!_ it was crowing.

Spike’s hips were moving fast and hard, driving his thick cock deep into her with every stroke. Being pressed so tightly against him meant that his pelvis was grinding against her clit and driving her higher and higher. Her legs quivered and she came. The bliss rolled on and on. Spike was grunting and growling, plowing her frantically, until his peak hit and he came with a snarl.

They lay locked together. Buffy found herself unwilling to move, even as reality slowly seeped back into her consciousness. She traced a claw over the now familiar dips and ridges of Spike’s handsome demon face and his purring picked up in volume. She could feel the vibrations through his cock where it rested inside of her. If only they could stay like this forever. Everything made more sense when they were close.

The pad of her finger traced his full lower lip.  

How had this happened? Everything had been going along the same as always: school, patrolling, friend drama. Even dealing with a returned Angel hadn’t seemed that out of place. When had things between her and Angel ever been normal? It seemed impossible that something as dumb as homework had led to her death. The remembered feel of Angel’s fangs in her neck sent a shard of ice shooting through her chest.

Bitch seethed at the thoughts of their Sire. Buffy pulsed her inner muscles around Spike’s cock, making him grunt, but her demon took comfort from the action and quieted down. Was she going to be spending the next forever taking care of Bitch like it was a spoiled toddler?

Spike cracked an eye open. “You okay over there?”

“I don’t know.”

Spike’s hand slid up her back and into her hair as he cradled her head against his shoulder. “You can talk to me.”

“I’m…still trying to figure out this whole I’m not just regular-Buffy anymore thing.”

“It’ll get easier. Remember the demon’s still new too and trying to figure you out. You’ll mesh better as time goes on.”

She rubbed her hand against his chest. It was tempting to sink her claws in and mark him, which Buffy hoped was an idea coming from Bitch. Her demon eagerly accepted responsibility and Buffy found herself showered with all kinds of ideas of what she could do to and with Spike. Bitch was nearly quivering over some of them, or maybe that was her. Er…surely it was the demon because Buffy had never wanted to do some of those things before…

“Does your demon have a name?” Buffy asked, trying to distract herself from the porn channel her brain had suddenly become. 

“Well, yeah, of course.”

“What is it?”

He looked a little confused. “Spike.”

Her stomach fell. Oh no.

Spike’s eyebrow was raised and he was smirking. “Why? What’s yours, luv?”

Buffy squeezed her eyes closed and hid her face against his shoulder.

“If you’re trying to hide, it’s not going to work. I know right where you are.” His hand patted her bare ass. “You might as well just tell me.”

“No.”

He waited, his look indulgent, as he continued to pet her behind.

“Will I, um, do I have to be called by it? Is that an inevitable thing?”

“Not at all. No going all lioness on me here, I’m just stating what I know, but Darla was Darla before she was turned, and Drusilla was Dru’s given name. Though I think she might have called her demon Miss Edith and then projected it onto her dolly.”

Buffy made a face and her claws sank into the muscles of his chest. Spike’s hand was immediately caressing her face. “There’s a girl. Just telling you what I know, no need for sharp bits.”

With an effort, Buffy removed her claws from him and curled her hand into a loose fist instead.

“And now you have to let me know to keep curiosity from dusting the vamp?” His tone was teasing but Bitch was apparently not great with humor because it freaked out instantly and was pushing Buffy to get talking. Any threat of Spike being taken away from them was more than they could stand.

“Bitch,” she mumbled.

“Really?” Spike looked like someone had just given him the best present ever. Buffy nodded mutely.  “Why, Summers, I always you had more than a little bitch in you.”

“I hate you,” she said, knowing she didn’t sound very sincere.

“Aw, don’t be like that, kitten. You’ve got more than a little Spike in you too.”

No arguing that one. She imagined rolling over, away from him, and pouting, but that would require actually moving and then he wouldn’t be inside her anymore and...she didn’t budge. “Can you not call me that, at least not in front of other people?”

“I can promise not in public, but when I’m fucking you–“ His voice dropped an octave. “You better believe that’s what you’ll be hearing.”

Buffy shivered at the promise and Bitch took that as permission to start up the porno suggestions again, making her wince.

“What’s that look for?”

“Uh, Bitch had some pretty creative ideas about what we can do together.” Her eyes landed on the hollow at the base of his throat.

Spike chuckled. “Just the demon? Not Buffy?”

She was going to die of embarrassment. “There’s things I want to do too.” She nuzzled her nose into that little dip between his collarbones and inhaled deeply. “But I’m pretty sure I’ve never imagined ever doing some of this stuff before, and it’s really incessant.”

“I think this is even better that your name, do tell.”

Bitch became ecstatic and Buffy found herself grinning. “It really wants you to know.”

“I feel like I’m walking on air over here, luv. It’s not just your demon, mine’s damn near chasing its tail it’s so thrilled.”

“I don’t know where to start and I’m kind of ashamed.” She wasn’t used to thinking stuff like this, let alone talking about it out loud. Though she supposed she should get over herself since Spike’s cock was currently inside her.

“Mine keeps thinking it’d be a really good idea to shove my face between your legs and go to town. Regardless of time and place. I barely managed to convince it that your Watcher would, in fact, dust me if I did it right in front of him.”

Buffy giggled. Poor Giles. She knew she and Spike were giving her Watcher a hard time, but it was difficult for her to worry much about it. He was the one that’d invited two vampires into his house.

Oh, that must be the whole lack of soul. She should probably be more sympathetic. The blender was still whirling in the kitchen. Buffy was starting to think he wasn’t actually making himself something.

Bitch drug Buffy’s thoughts away from Giles and back to Spike, where they belonged. The future, which had always felt to her like the last walk of a condemned man to the electric chair, had now been blown wide open. They could go anywhere and do anything.

“Now tell your Spike what sorts of naughty things Bitch is coming up with.”

“Don’t laugh.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She bit her lip. “Okay, what it really wants is for you to bend me over, it’s not picky about what or where, and do me from behind.”

“Done that tonight, not that I’m not up for doggie style anytime you say the word.” He looked confused, like he’d expected a lot more, which there was but she wasn’t sure she could tell him. Bitch was a thousand percent sure he wouldn’t think she was weird.

“Well…um…it’d be…in the other hole.”

She felt Spike’s toes curl. “Want to be rogered good and proper in the ass, do you?” he said, voice husky.

There was a split second when she was going to protest and say it was Bitch that wanted it, but it was her pussy that’d clenched at his words. “Yes,” she said breathlessly.

“You rather right about only-a-Slayer-Buffy not coming up with that one. Not to mention she would have had to remove the stick up there first.”

She should probably be upset by that, only it was kind of accurate.

“Only one stick I want up there now,” she said. Her words were followed by a huge yawn which Spike echoed. “We can talk about it more later.”

“Promise?”

“Yup.” Bitch wasn’t going to let this one go. 

Spike’s lips grazed her forehead. “Night, luv.”

“Good night…Spike.” Dang, she needed to come up with a cute name to call him that was just between them. All the regulars–honey, baby, sweetie– seemed too boring. _Bastard?_ Bitch suggested hopefully. No, she told it with an internal laugh. _Jerk, fiend, ass, moron?_ Buffy was seriously having doubts about Bitch’s naming abilities, though, to be fair, she had spent a great deal of time calling Spike all of those in her head. _Pig_? Now that had possibilities. Bitch curled up, the question having been settled, and started to doze, pulling Buffy towards slumber as well.

Her hand fluttered against Spike’s chest as she snuggled her face into his shoulder. “My pig.” She had a last fleeting thought before sleep overwhelmed her that Mr. Gordo was going to be very upset at being replaced.


	5. Do You Have a Band-Aid?

 

His arm was still around her when he woke up. For a moment, Spike thought he was with Dru, but a breath in brought the night before rushing back. Not Drusilla at all, no dark games to play or twisted logic to decipher. He waited for a sadness that didn’t come. Content for the first time in what felt like sodding ages, he opened his eyes.

Buffy lay with her head on the same pillow as his, face towards him, perfectly still. The sun was above the horizon and she, fledge that she was, slept the sleep of the dead. It’d set soon enough, but for the moment he enjoyed the way the indirect sunlight was lighting up her hair. He’d pulled it loose from its ponytail last night when he’d been overcome with the desire to run his finger through the silky strands.  

Buffy and he had shifted in their sleep and he was no longer inside her. Pity that. They were also still on top of the covers and not underneath them, so hopefully the Watcher hadn’t been up to check. Spike didn’t care if the bloke saw him bare, but Buffy…the idea of anyone seeing her in her birthday suit made Spike’s fangs itch.

Well, anyone besides him, of course.

He sat up and gently rolled Buffy onto her back so he could take a gander at her in all her glory. And she was glorious. Golden hair, soft pink lips, dark lashes against her cheeks, and the cutest upturned nose. Her neck was an enticing playground and her sweetly rounded breasts were tipped with strawberry colored nipples that made his mouth water. Her belly had the barest hint of roundness to it and he could easily imagine lapping blood out of the hollow of her navel. Her hips flared below her waist and he knew from experience that they were just the right size and shape for his hands.

Spike knelt between her legs and gingerly pushed her knees apart, but she remained fast asleep. Beneath the dark blonde curls of her pubic hair the lips of her sex beckoned to him. He hadn’t gotten a good look the night before, he’d been too busy pounding into her to stop for observation.

“Pretty little quim,” he murmured to himself. It was exquisite. His cock more than agreed, it was hard and heavy between his thighs, aching to be inside her, but it was just going to have to wait a blasted minute.

Her pussy was delectable. Puffy outer lips, delicate rose colored inner ones with the tip of her clit peeking out at the top. The opening to her body was deceptively demure. It looked like it’d barely fit his finger, let alone his prick, but he knew it’d eagerly take either. His gaze dropped to the tight pucker of her anus. Soon enough he’d be in there too, and her mouth. He was greedy and wanted all of her.

_She is ours, right?_ A timid voice in the corner of his mind asked. Oh, balls. It had to be because Buffy was still new and fragmented. He’d caught it somehow. William, who was supposed to have died in 1880 but had gone exactly nowhere, got bolder. _She won’t go with Angelus…will she?_ Spike rubbed his temple. William, the twit, had hidden inside the demon for a long time, ever since he had realized that Dru wasn’t his special mate that’d love and cherish only him until the end of time.

Something twisted in Spike’s chest. “No, mate, Buffy’s different.” The outpouring of emotion was a tidal wave that nearly broke him. He wiped a tear that was threatening to slip down his cheek. “Sod this,” he growled, and dove nose first into Buffy’s pussy. Oh Christ, she still smelled of him and her together.   _Make it perfect_ , William urged. _Make it so good she’ll never leave us_. “I’m trying, if you’d bloody well shut your gob and let me concentrate.” He waited a beat, but William wisely kept silent. That was better.  

Spike swiped the flat of his tongue over the entirety of her pussy, learning her taste. It made his eyes roll up. He licked her harder and darted the tip if his tongue over and along every hill and valley of her sex. Her clit swelled and demanded his attention, so he sucked and lapped at it until her honey began to flow, then he alternated between driving his tongue deep inside her channel to seek out every drop and playing with her nub to keep her motor running.

He felt when she woke up and his gaze traveled up to watch her. There was puzzlement, a little frown, then her demon flickered briefly over her features and she made a resigned noise. A second later her hand darted to the side and upon it meeting empty space, her whole face crumpled. Alarmed, Spike closed his lips around her clit and sucked hard while a growl rumbled low in his throat.

Wide eyed, Buffy finally registered what was going on. She gave an adorable little ‘eep’ and then it was like the sun had come out from behind the clouds, she lit up, smiling wide and bringing her hand up to pet his face.

“Good morning, luv,” he purred, delighted with her reaction.

“Good morning…pig.”

He paused and raised an eyebrow. Thought she was being cute, did she? Buffy’s smile had turned sheepish. Okay, so she was cute. He shrugged a shoulder. Chit could call him whatever she wanted. “Oink, oink,” he said with a wink. Buffy giggled, which quickly turned into moans as he renewed his efforts between her legs. Her fingers worked their way into his hair.

He was relieved her mood had changed once she’d figured out where he was. It had looked for a moment there, when she’d thought she was alone, like she would have rather been dust. It took him a moment to puzzle it out, since most of his blood was south of the border and most of his brain was occupied with pleasing his girl. Sodding Angelus. He’d left, along with his bloody soul, the morning after taking the Buffy’s virginity. Poor girl must have believed she’d been left in the lurch again. Just another reason he was going to kill Angelus very, very slowly and painfully.

In his anger, he was growling against Buffy’s cunt and lashing it with his tongue. There was an answering growl from Buffy and her nails turned into claws. She dug them in and held him tight against her as she bucked her hips and rode his face. Her thighs quivered and she came with a snarl. He batted her hands away and crawled up her body, sinking his neglected prick into her still-quaking snatch.

Watcher had the bloody TV turned up loud, was he going deaf?

Buffy moaned and her legs cinched around his waist. His lips and chin were dripping with her cream, andshe not only didn’t seem to mind, but wiggled underneath him and happily cleaned it off his face with her tongue. “I’m glad you’re still here,” she said as he ran a finger over her vampiric ridges.

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else but here with my girl.” He kissed her smile and began rocking his hips, sliding his cock in and out of her in slow, measured strokes. Her hands wandering over his shoulders and back, then she let her knees fall open wide so she could reach down to stroke and squeeze his ass.  He hummed his approval into her mouth.

Dimly, he was aware that there was a knock on the door and that Giles answered it, but Buffy was fluttering those brilliant inner muscles of hers and he quickly lost track anything but the feel of her. “You should feed,” he said.

She eyed his neck and tongued her fangs, but then stopped and looked up at him with concerned yellow eyes. “Won’t I hurt you if I take more?”

“Nah, you have your brekkie and I’ll get mine right after.”

Reassured, she grabbed his ass tightly and sank her fangs into his neck.

Bloody hell.

His control snapped and he jackhammered wildly into her. He wanted to fill her with his blood, his body, his come, until she overflowed with him and there was no room for anyone else. She was mewling and slurping noisily as she drank from him. In the background, some woman was yelling about a pink dress and a funeral. What damn show was Giles watching?

Buffy released his neck and sagged against the mattress, there was blood on her lips and chin and it’d leaked onto the quilt. It was all beautiful. Her eyes closed, she took a deep breath, and keened loudly as she came with her quim milking his shaft.

“Buffy?” asked a voice below.

“Now just a minute–“ the Watcher said, but then Spike’s own peak caught him. He groaned out his release, bliss radiating from his spurting cock to white out his vision.  Buffy came again, her claws digging into his ass and drawing out his orgasm. His muscles gave way and he collapsed on top of her, nuzzling her neck and purring loudly. Her demon receded as she sighed contentedly and her hand stroked over the claw marks she’d made only a moment ago.

There was a startled gasp from the direction of the stairs. “Buffy? What the hell is going on?”

“I told you to wait,” an exasperated sounding Giles said. Annoyed at being interrupted, Spike growled a warning at whoever thought it was a good idea to storm into where he was feeding his girl. The Watcher was standing a few risers down, his eyes adverted, but there was a woman who was staring at his naked ass in open mouthed shock. She looked blasted familiar, but his post-sex brain was still foggy.

Buffy peeped over his shoulder, hiding her blood-stained lips against him. “Mommy?”

Oh, buggering fuck, it was her mother. At least mum didn’t have an ax handy this time.

Buffy’s hands quickly migrated from his rear to his shoulders.

“I don’t understand.” Joyce’s voice was small and lost.

“Can we have a moment? To get dressed? I’ll be right down.” Buffy seemed to shrink into herself, becoming a scared teenager where a moment ago a lioness had been raging under him.

Giles, still keeping his eyes on the floor, snagged Joyce’s elbow and led her away.

Spike let Buffy push him off and watched as she cleaned the blood from her face with a tissue and mechanically got dressed in her shorts and t-shirt. She threw his borrowed shirt and sweatpants at him and he slid them on, not sure how to help her. Feeling helpless and needing something to do, he pulled the bloodstained quilt off the bed and wadded it up, following Buffy as she descended the stairs. She brushed past her mother and Watcher without a glance and headed down the hall towards the bathroom. The door made a hollow noise as Buffy slammed it shut and twisted the lock.

Bloody moody woman. Every part of him was on edge at her turning away from him when she was obviously upset. He made it three steps further down the hallway before a blood-curdling scream came from the bathroom.

Spike dropped the quilt and body checked the door, breaking the jamb. Buffy was curled in a ball on the floor and shaking.

“What happened?” the Watcher asked from the doorway as he nervously worried the earpiece of his glasses between his fingers.

Spike ignored the idiot as he crouched and held a hand out to Buffy. “Sorry, luv, didn’t think about letting you come in here alone,” he murmured. “It’s my fault. You get over here and tell me what a blithering idiot I am.”

Buffy hesitated only an instant before scooting across the tiles and into his embrace. “I’m not real,” she said in a shaky voice.

“Of course you are. Otherwise who am I holding in my arms? Who can I feel under my hands?” He rubbed her sides. “I love how you feel, kitten.”

“But-“

“Bloody mirror’s a liar. And, yeah, it’s strange at first, but you get used to it.” He continued running soothing hands over her. “Just let me stay with you for the first few times, alright?” Spike knew without looking that Giles had left, hopefully to keep Joyce at bay for a few more minutes.  

“Good idea,” Buffy said, and while she looked a little better, her voice still sounded unsure.

“Now, what were you planning on doing?” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You can tell your Spike.”

She relaxed a fraction more. “Um, wash my face, pull my hair up, and there’s a bag of makeup I have here so I was going to put a little on.”

“Right, you stay there.”

He stood, and scowled at the large bathroom mirror for frightening his girl, then wet a washcloth and handed it to her, switching it out for a hairbrush when she was done. Buffy quickly put her hair up and secured it with a holder that’d been looped around the handle of the brush. Spike had located the bag of makeup and sat down facing her.

She toyed with the brush and stared at the bag. “How am I supposed to put it on without a reflection?”

“You’ll figure it out, but for now, let me.”

She gave him a dubious look.

“Who do think did Dru’s–“

“Don’t say her name,” Buffy snapped, her lower lip sticking out in a pout he couldn’t help but lean forward to taste. He probably shouldn’t tell her just how much her little jealous spats pleased him. It felt wonderful to have someone feeling envy over him for once. Not that the girl had anything to worry about. Sodding slimy chaos demon was welcome to Dru. In fact, he might write the bugger a nice thank you card, because if Dru hadn’t taken up with the wanker Spike might not have been there last night when Buffy clawed her way out of her grave.

He didn’t fancy any kind of universe that didn’t happen in.

With gentle movements, he positioned her head just so. “Stay still.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He chuckled. “I like the sound of that.”

“You would, pig.”

“So would you, Bitch.”

She frowned, apparently not having a comeback. Her lashes swept down. “Kind of.”

He filed that one away for later. Buffy’s face and coloring were very different from Dru’s– _prettier_ , William added grumpily before Spike could stop him–and Spike suspected she’d prefer a natural look to dramatic colors.

He pulled a few things out of the bag and flipped open the eyeshadow pallet.

“What’s your favorite color?” he asked, hoping to distract her from whatever thoughts were making her furrow her brow.

“Why do you want to know that?”

“Because I want to know everything about you. You’re my girl and I wouldn’t even know what color roses to give you.”

She blinked at him and Spike had the impression no one had ever taken the time to really get to know her. What was wrong with people? Buffy deserved to be pampered like an empress. Sighing at the world’s injustice, he swept a low-key shade over her eyelids but opted for black mascara and no liner.

“Pink,” she said slowly, after he was done with her eyes, like she was embarrassed to admit liking such a girlie color.

He nodded. “Fits. The girl that saves the world…is still a girl.” She looked bashful and he swiped the barest hint of rouge over the apples of her cheeks and opted for a sheer lip gloss. He enjoyed the natural hue of her lips too much to cover it up.

“I’d ask you yours, but I already know,” she said as he surveyed his work.

“You do?” he asked incredulously.

Buffy gave a delicate snort. “Black.”

“Well, that’s not fair,” he said with a frown. Chit got it in one.

She gave him a half smile and stood, smoothing wrinkles out of her shirt. “How do I look?”

“Ready for anything.” He climbed to his feet and leaned against the counter.

Her eyes darted towards the door and she bit her lip.

Spike settled a reassuring hand on the small of her back. “Even your mum.”


	6. Is Your Dad a Theif?

Spike watched for a moment as Buffy marched down the hallway towards the firing squad of her mum. Her shoulders were squared and she looked ready for a fight. His eyes dropped to her backside, which was barely covered by her gym shorts. His brain short circuited–want, need, take–and he was almost unable to stop himself from tackling her, ripping those shorts off, and shagging her–hard, fast–in the middle of the hallway.

She might not even stop him.

With a growl, he spun away from the enticing sight of Buffy’s ass and grabbed the bloodstained quilt he’d dropped earlier. The washing machine’s lid clanged as he threw it open. His jeans weren’t in there, instead they were in the dryer. Giles must have moved them. Christ, Spike’s life had gotten strange. A bloody Council-trained Watcher had done his laundry.

Spike stuffed the quilt in the washer, dumped half a bottle of peroxide over the bloodstains, and started the cycle. He watched the cold water pour in for a moment before dropping the lid shut.

“What are you doing?” Giles asked from behind him.

Spike turned with a sigh. His fingers twitched and he realized he hadn’t had a smoke since Buffy had risen. “Washing the quilt.”

The Watcher pulled his glasses from his face and fished a crumpled handkerchief out of his pocket. “I mean with Buffy.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “You might want to be more specific, unless you’re quite a different sort of chap than I thought.”

The Watcher looked horrified and fumbled his glasses back into place. “I-I–dear lord–I was asking no such thing. Just now Buffy was frightened out of her mind and you immediately knew what the problem was, calmed her, and helped her regain her equilibrium. No action I’d previously seen from you nor description I’ve read would suggest you would be capable of such lov…caring behavior towards another being, especially one you previously loathed.”

Spike gritted his teeth. “I never loathed her. Had our truce, didn’t we? We saved you and the sodding world together.”

“You what?”

She’d never told her Watcher, had kept Spike her dirty little secret. Wasn’t that neat? Spike would bet she’d frigged herself over him, in the dark, under her blankets. The imagined scent of her pussy while she played with herself and thought of him made his vision go hazy. He wondered if she had any toys? Maybe a well-polished stake she’d slide into her hole and pretend it was his prick? Though now she’d know better: no bit of plastic or wood was as good as the real McCoy. In fact, he could just go fuck her right this minute and she wouldn’t have to imagine a bloody thing…

“Spike?”

What? Oh, right, the bleeding Watcher. And Buffy’s mum was here. Spike snarled in frustration.

Giles crossed his arms. “I am simply trying to understand–“

“Understand?” Spike interrupted. “There’s no logic or reason here, Watcher. Came to this ass end of the earth town to kill her and bring a convenient bit of Slayer–her head or heart–back to Dru so she’d know the truce meant nothing beyond survival. But Angel beat me to the kill. I was mourning the death of my last, best chance to prove to the woman I’d loved for more than a century that I was still hers…and then Buffy pulled herself from the ground and my world as I knew it ended.”

“Ended?” Giles pulled his glasses off again. Spike was really beginning to wonder about the man’s mental capacity, he just didn’t seem to be grasping the situation.

“New one began, didn’t it? Since I’m here in your blasted flat washing a quilt.”

“Er, quite.”

Spike closed his eyes. “Saw her, caught her scent…I feel like I don’t know her at all and that I’ve known her forever. My girl. Sweetness, joy, fierceness and fire. Have to be with her, have to keep her safe, have to take care of her. Bloody hell.” He grabbed the corners of the washer. “Don’t want to be here playing nice with you. I want to take her, run, find a blasted cave somewhere where it’s just her and me and I can strip her naked and we can shag each other until we’re dust. Don’t want to feed, don’t want to hunt.” His hands tightened on the washer and he felt the metal give slightly. Tears were threatening. “My girl. Kill anyone who tries to take her. Need her. Need to be inside her–“ His demon rushed to the fore and Spike spun away from the washer and slammed his fist into the wall, punching through the thin drywall.

He stared at the hole for a moment before dropping his arm to the side. Hadn’t meant to do that.

“Interesting,” the Watcher said, sounding distracted. Spike forced his demon to recede and turned to glare at Giles, who was tapping the earpiece of glasses against his lips. He paused, then shook the earpiece at Spike. “I do believe I have a manuscript from the 11th century that may be relevant.” Spike raised an eyebrow. “Yes,” the Watcher said, his brow furrowing. “Yes, indeed. Unfortunately, it’s at the school and I’ll have to go and collect it.”  

The microwave dinged and the scent of warmed pig’s blood wafted down the hallway. Oh god. The tears that’d been threatening overwhelmed Spike. He scrabbled ahold of the Watcher’s sleeve. “She made me breakfast.”

Giles patted his hand. “Well, yes. That was very nice of Buffy. Now you better run along and eat it.”

Spike stumbled towards the kitchen, overcome that the most wonderful woman in existence wanted to take care of him. He glanced back once to see the Watcher settle his specs back on his nose and peer at the new hole in his wall. 

****

_A few minutes earlier…_

Buffy stood in the living room facing her mom, who looked stricken.

“You were dead,” her mom said, hands clasped.

“Still am.” Buffy had no idea how to handle this. None. She was desperately trying to think of what pre-vamp Buffy would have done, but was coming up blank besides: run away. Bitch was not helping. It was still freaked from the mirror and was responding to the stress of Joyce being right there by frantically insisting Buffy go immediately to Spike.

“What do you mean?” Joyce asked, peering at Buffy’s face, completely unaware of her mental battle.

 _Spike!_ Bitch howled.

 _I’ve got to deal with this. She’s our mother._ Buffy tried reasoning with her demonic side.

_But he’ll make it better. He made the place that was not a place better!_

It took a second to realize Bitch meant the mirror.

 _He did._ Buffy agreed.

Bitch was seething restlessly under her skin. _He’ll get the lady that makes you sad to go away_.

_That’s our mother!_

_Angelus sired us_. Bitch sounded pouty.

_You’re in this body, so that makes her your mother._

_I want Spike!_ Bitch, in a last ditch effort, turned on the porn, and images flooded her mind of Spike bending her over the washing machine and pulling aside the thin covering of her shorts so he could slam his dick into her.

It nearly worked. Buffy took a step backwards, but managed to stop herself. _Mom first_. Bitch sighed, but quieted down, as much as it ever did, anyway.

“Buffy?” Joyce asked.

“Sorry,” Buffy mumbled, rubbing her temple. “This is all really new and it’s still confusing.”

“You’re…dead?”

“Um, technically I’m undead.” She looked at the floor even though she wasn’t really ashamed. It wasn’t her fault, but she wasn’t sure how to explain things to her mom. “I-I’m a vampire.” She let her demon features briefly show before hiding them again.

Joyce gasped. “Buffy! Wait a minute–“ Her mom’s face screwed up. “That man! I thought I recognized him. He was at the school, he’s the one I hit with an ax! And you brought him to the house last spring…Did he do this to you? And you’re sleeping with him?”

“Spike is not my Sire.” Cold fury lodged in Buffy’s gut. “He’s helping me, and he’s mine.” Buffy desperately needed something to do with her hands. _Blood?_ Bitch suggested. Of course, Spike needed to eat. Buffy stomped to the kitchen and pulled two large styrofoam cups from the fridge.

“I don’t understand.” Joyce shook her head. “What about school? You still need to pick a college.”

“I can’t go to school.” Buffy sniffed first one cup of blood, then the other. Besides the ick factor of it being pig’s blood, it seemed fresh enough.

“Of course you can, a good education–“

Buffy sighed. “Uh, sunlight? Buffy go ‘poof’?”  

Joyce looked like she’d been slapped.

Buffy set the containers in the microwave and typed in what she was sure was enough time. It was still really odd she didn’t want to bite anyone. Bitch gave a delicate shudder. _Spike only_. Well, duh on that one. But shouldn’t Spike be biting and draining people? Like Giles? Buffy frowned. The idea of Spike’s lips being on anyone else’s skin or his fangs sinking into someone else’s flesh…

Bitch surged to the surface and Buffy had to grip the counter, her claws leaving long gouges in the linoleum. Okay, butcher’s blood only for Spike.

“Buffy, are you even listening to me?” Her mom sounded pissed.

Buffy shook her head.

“Young lady! First this Slayer nonsense, then you run away…and now you’ve managed to get yourself killed and turned into a vampire? What am I supposed to do with you?”

The microwave dinged and Buffy opened the door and took the cups out and set them on the counter. Spike pushed past her mom into the kitchen a moment later, rubbing at the corner of his eye. Putting an arm around her shoulders, he kissed her forehead. “Thanks, luv.” He grabbed a cup and chugged it down.

“Excuse me,” Joyce sputtered. “I was talking with my daughter.”

Spike shrugged and switched out cups, draining the second just as fast. Buffy felt terrible. She must have taken too much from him and he’d been starving. Bitch did the demon mental equivalent of rolling its eyes. _He’s fine and he liked it._

“Look, Buffy, we need to leave. I’m going to take you home and we’ll talk about this some more.”

The cup in Spike’s hand hit the wall, the last remnants of the blood splattering in a red arc. Vamping out, he growled loudly and shoved Buffy behind him. Buffy lost control of her own demon and Bitch surged forward, snarling. She couldn’t keep track of anything except someone was trying to separate her from Spike and they needed to die…

There was a yell from down the hallway.

The terrible someone was pulled away from her and Spike by…her mind worked for it…Giles.

“I apologize,” Giles was speaking to the terrible person. “I should have laid down some ground rules. We do not, at any time, talk about separating them. Buffy and Spike are to remain together. Period.”

Buffy...no Bitch–who was she?–was whimpering. The urge to kill was strong, overwhelming.

Giles was gazing steadily at Spike. “Get her under control before she does something she’ll regret.”

“I’m barely reining myself in here, Watcher. Get that fucking woman out of here if you don’t want your walls painted red.” His words were punctuated with loud growls. Doing an about face, he grabbed Buffy by the ass and lifted her on to the counter. His mouth smashed into hers, their fangs clicking as he devoured her mouth.

Whatever was on the counter went crashing to the floor as Spike’s ferocity pushed her backwards. Her shoulders slammed against the cabinet door and she felt it start to give way. With a grunt, he yanked it completely off its hinges and tossed it to clatter against the wall.

“What are they doing?” the terrible someone asked.

“Don’t complain, it’s keeping you alive,” Giles replied. “It appears I grossly overestimated Buffy’s self-control as a fledgling.  Now out the bloody door, Joyce, before they remember we’re here. We’ll run a few errands, stop by the school to grab a book, and return once they’ve had a chance to calm down. Along the way, I will do what I should have done in the first place and fully explain the situation in which we find ourselves.”

“They sound like wild animals.”

“They are wild animals.”

The door closed with a thud and at last Buffy was alone with Spike.

Her claws raked across his back and chest, shredding his shirt from his body and leaving behind fine red lines that made him hiss against her lips. She reached down and grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants and ripped them open so she could run a hand over his erection. The mixed scent of their arousal hung heavy in the air and it made her mouth water.

Spike tore her shirt off and his lips descended to her breast, drawing a nipple into his mouth. She mewled and her hands went to his hair to hold him close as she arched her back and shoved her breasts into his face. His tongue flicked over the tip, torturing her. After a few more swipes he sucked in more of her breast, well past her nipple and areola, and bit down. As his fangs slid into her she gasped and came, her pussy walls clamping down hard on nothing while her clit throbbed against the fabric of her shorts. She needed more, wanted him to fill the emptiness.

Surging up against her, Spike seemed to be trying to crawl onto the counter with her. Dishes clattered in the cabinet as Spike used it as a handhold. The angry, dark purple head of his cock was pushing against the sopping wet fabric of the crotch of her shorts. With a growl, Spike sent dishes sailing into the living room to shatter against the floor, then slammed his palm onto the cabinet shelf. Buffy was wedged uncomfortably between the wall and cabinet, but the counter’s height and the angle of their bodies just wasn’t working. Looking down, she watched as Spike’s cock left a trail of precum on her shorts as he again tried to scramble into the right position.

Images flashed through her mind as Bitch made a suggestion. Oh YES…

Roughly, she put both hands on Spike’s chest and pushed him backwards. He snarled and lunged for her as she stood, but she easily sidestepped the clumsy move–he was hampered by the remnant of the sweatpants around his ankles–and swept his legs out from under him.  Landing hard on his ass in a pile of spilled flour, Spike tried to get his feet under him, but she was too quick. She pounced on him and pinned his legs with her knees as her demon face receded, though Bitch was still right there, goading her on. Bracing herself on her hands, she considered Spike’s thick cock as it arced up over his abdomen from its nest of dark curls. There was another rush of wetness between her thighs as her pussy clenched.

“Bitch,” Spike rasped as he reached for her, making her quiver, but before he could grab her, she hunched down and sucked the head of his dick into her mouth. Instantly, he sagged against the floor and went still except for the deep rumble of approval that moved through his chest.

Buffy swirled her tongue over the head, marveling at how his taste exploded on her tongue. It was a highly concentrated version of his scent and it caused her to hump her hips uselessly in the air a few times while she moaned. At Bitch’s insistence, she began working Spike’s shaft further into her mouth. One hand stroking what wouldn’t easily fit, she sucked on him and mapped the pattern of the veins with the tip of her tongue.

Spike was moaning, his eyes closed. One hand rested on the top of her head.

She was enchanted with the feel of him in her mouth. She’d heard locker room stories about going down on a guy, but those girls had always made it sound terrible. Especially the end-part when the dude got off. It’d always sounded gross to Buffy before and like maybe something she’d do only if she loved the guy, he asked very nicely, took a shower first, and didn’t get his stuff in her mouth.

Bitch laughed at those naive notions and so did Buffy. Sucking on Spike wasn’t a chore, it was heaven. The strong flavor of him, the feel of his hard shaft in her hands, the scent of him, the sound of her mouth slurping at him and his pleased grunts, and the sight of his abdominal muscles as they twitched and flexed were making her dizzy with pleasure. She wanted him to come while she suckled him so she could learn the complexities of his semen’s taste.

She shuddered at the imagined bliss.

But as much as she was enjoying his cock, there was one other part of him she wanted to explore. Keeping her hand pumping his shaft, she scooted down just enough to bring her eyes level with the sac between his legs. She nuzzled against it and breathed in her lover’s rich scent.

“Buffy,” Spike moaned, his entire body convulsing. His enjoyment making her bold, she laved his testicles with the flat of her tongue. The skin was rougher than she’d been expecting, the musky taste a wonderful delight. She wanted to swallow him whole, take him deep inside her.

 _You can!_ Bitch gleefully showed her how.

Buffy wasn’t quite sure she was up to the task as she returned her mouth to his cock. Sliding the broad head between her lips she worked the tip of her tongue into the slit at the end, groaning at the taste of his precum.

Bitch was whispering that Buffy could take more of his shaft, could take it all. She didn’t need to breathe and could control her gag reflex. And holy, she wanted him that far inside her. Deeper. She began bobbing her head, taking in a little more of his cock with each down stroke. She felt more than saw Spike push himself up to watch her.

To her surprise, she didn’t choke as his length brushed the back of her throat. She adjusted herself slightly and kept going until her nose was buried in his pubic hair. His dick was far down her throat and she kept swallowing reflexively around him. Her mouth was opened wide around the thick base.

His hips were twitching slightly and he groaned as both his hands worked their way into her hair, pulling it out of its ponytail and gripping tightly. Buffy felt incredibly powerful. He was so much older than her, so much more experienced, but right now he was at her mercy and begging for her to pleasure him. Once she got the angle just right, she started shallowly moving her head up and down, slowly picking up speed. Bitch was glowing with approval.

Spike’s cries became more guttural and frequent. He wrapped strands of her hair around his finger and yanked, the pain welcomed by Bitch. Buffy was so turned on it hurt. Spike was panting as he tightened his grip on her hair and began fucking her face in earnest. In some dim back corner of her brain she realized that this whole thing would have been impossible when she was human. As a demon she was enthralled. The dense scent of him in her nose, the pain/pleasure slide of his cock in her throat, the ache of her jaw and the stretch of her lips as she fought to accommodate him were divine.  She gloried in each sound of pleasure she wrung from him.

When his sac drew tight against his body she could feel it with her chin. Anticipation coiled inside her. Spike came with a howl, bucking his hips so that he was as deep as possible. She could feel his dick jerking in her throat, but was unprepared for some of his load to come rushing back into her mouth. Gulping, she tried to take it back down, but some still ended dribbling out of her lips. Buffy finally pulled back and let his softening cock land on his belly. Spike was lying unmoving on the floor with his eyes fixed on the ceiling and a goofy grin on his face. His hands were now loose at his sides as she nuzzled his dick and licked off the come she hadn’t been able to swallow.

One hand slowly rose and cupped her cheek while his thumb slid back and forth over her lower lip.

“Pretty mouth,” he croaked out.

She laughed. “I think I broke you.”

“Hardly.”

Buffy yelped as he stood up in a sudden burst of motion, dragging her along with him. Flour flew everywhere.

Grabbing her shorts, he ripped them from them from her body before tenderly pulling her into a kiss.  “I’m not done with you yet, kitten.”

Bitch swooned.


	7. Are You A Campfire?

Buffy thought Spike was leading her to the couch, but instead he grabbed the coffee table and sent it, and everything on it, toppling to the side. The couch was kicked out of the way and it smacked into one of the chairs, turning it to face the door. The play of his muscles under his skin and the show of strength made her woozy. He caught her hand and pulled her against him, kissing her wildly while grinding his renewed erection against her belly. She whimpered into his mouth, desperate for him. Nothing else mattered. Desire burned molten through her veins.

Spike’s strong arms were around her, his hands on her ass. With a feral growl, he tightened his grip and lifted her, propelling her up his body until her legs were over his shoulders. He braced his back against the wall and Buffy dug her claws into the drywall for balance. Pictures and decorations went crashing to the floor. Spike was rubbing his face against her sex, coating his cheeks with her juices. “Oh luv, you smell so heavenly. Want to be dripping with you. Want to cover you with my come, paint you until no one can doubt whose girl you are.”

Bitch agreed unreservedly. Buffy moaned and rolled her hips as Spike’s fingers gripped bruisingly tight on her rear. His tongue was bathing her pussy, lapping up inside her and darting over every fold. Tension coiled deep between her hip bones. When his lips curled around her clit and he sucked, she peaked with a roar, her claws leaving deep furrows in the wall. She was still riding high on the bliss as Spike unhooked her legs from his shoulders so she slid back down his body. He tasted of her and she nicked his tongue with her fangs, the combined flavors spiraling her body back towards another orgasm.

Spike carried her to the chair they’d knocked askew earlier, and he sank down onto it so she was straddling his lap. With one hand, he seized her hip and urged her to lift up. Holding her still with that hand, he used the other to position the broad head of his cock at the opening to her body. Leaving his dick barely touching her, he trailed his fingers up to her clit. Dropping his head back against the top of the chair, he gazed up at her while licking the last traces of blood from his lips. His fingers petted her clit in hard little circles and she came again, her gasps of pleasure turning into a scream as Spike surged up inside her quaking channel. He grunted as her inner muscles clamped around his shaft.

“That’s right kitten, fuck me, use my prick to get off.”

“Only you,” she gasped.

“Yes, Bitch. My cock, only mine. It belongs to you.” His yellow eyes locked onto hers. “All of me belongs to you.” He was slamming into her while she frantically rocked her hips. He felt impossibly deep, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. Spike’s arms went around her and he leaned forwards to snuggle his face between her breasts. She gripped his shoulders tight, riding him as hard and as fast as she could.

Spike was snarling and growling against her skin. His lifted her up slightly and his hips thrust in a flurry of motion. He grunted loudly as he climaxed, his cock bucking violently inside her as he flooded her with come. Buffy gasped as another orgasm hit her as well. She let go of his shoulders and arched backwards over his arm, caressing her stomach and breasts before trailing the fingers of one hand up and over her face.

She heard heartbeats.

Buffy’s eyes snapped open and the upside down shape of a person swam into focus. Buffy blinked and realized she was looking at Xander, who was gaping at her. Willow, Cordelia, and Oz were there as well, all wearing identical expressions of shock.

Another female entered the apartment, her hips swinging. Faith.

“What’s with you guys…oh my god, B? Is that you?” Faith asked as her eyebrows shot up. Buffy squeaked, jerked herself upright, and hurtled off of Spike and the chair and over the back of the couch. Spike followed and crouched on the floor beside her.

“You okay?” he asked, a hand on her arm.

“Those are my friends!” she hissed.

“Looks like. And that girl’s the new Slayer?” he asked, letting go of Buffy to risk a quick peek over the back of the couch. Buffy’s heart sank. Faith was everything she wasn’t: cool, sexy, confident around guys. And now the only Slayer with a heartbeat. Spike had a thing for Slayers. He was fascinated with them, and now Buffy herself was mostly just a vampire. Another one of the bazillions of undead.

She’d lose him. Before she knew it he’d be following Faith around, or trying to fight her. He’d be staring at Faith’s tits and making rude comments. A tremor ran through Buffy’s body. _Kill her_ , Bitch urged. _You can do it. It’ll be easy._ Then Faith couldn’t take away the only thing that mattered to Buffy.

Growling and still wearing her fangs, Buffy stood, her gaze locking on Faith. The others gave startled gasps and stepped back. Faith was so going to die.

****

Spike did a double take as an obviously brassed off Buffy rose to her feet. Oh, bloody hell, really? He leapt up and put his arms around her, shrugged at the collected stunned faces of her friends, and pulled her back down behind the sofa. “What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed.

“I’m going to kill the Slayer,” she said, not looking at him.

“No you’re not.”

That earned him an angry glare. “Defending her already? I’m still right here,” she snapped.

What the fuck was the chit talking about? “I’m trying to not get you killed.”

Buffy snorted. “I could so take her.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Well, probably,” he allowed. She was incredibly strong for a fledge, which had to have something to do with her being a turned Slayer, but she was still new to being a vampire. She wouldn’t know how to fight as one. “But you might not be ready yet.”

She snorted and crossed her arms. “Whatever. I know the truth.”

“The truth?” He was completely lost, though seeing her angry with her demon eyes flashing was making the incredible orgasm he’d had feel like it’d happened days ago instead of less than five minutes. Maybe if he asked nicely she’d give him a hand job while chatting to her friends from behind the couch?

“Yes, the truth. That you’d rather be in her pants than mine. Are you imaging her right now? Do you want to fuck her?” Buffy snarled around her fangs as she stared with naked anger at his semi-hard cock. Her fire only fueled his arousal and it took him a few seconds to full comprehend what she was saying.

“What?” he gasped. Buffy had gone completely barmy. He’d just been telling her he was entirely hers while shagging her into next Sunday. Nothing had changed in the last ten seconds.

“If I tear her head off and bathe in her blood would you want me then?”

Well, it was a very enticing image.

With a cry, Buffy launched herself back to her feet, breasts bouncing. Spike tackled her to the ground and she howled in frustration.

“Uh, Buffy?” the other Slayer asked. “Who’s the hottie? I can see why you let him vamp you.”

Spike groaned as Buffy started wigging wildly under him, trying to get away. “You’re not helping!” he called to the girl.

“They killed Giles,” a frantic male voice said. “They killed him and ate him and trashed his apartment while having wild animal sex.”

“Xander!” Buffy yelled, “I did not kill Giles. He’s driving my mom home and stopping by the school for a book.” She was continuing to squirm and Spike was having a very difficult time remembering why he couldn’t just slide back inside her right that moment.

“Was that Spike?” asked a female voice.

“Yeah, Willow, it’s Spike.” Buffy glared at him. “But he didn’t turn me.” Her voice dropped. “Angel did.”

Spike lost the battle with himself as soon as her Sire’s name passed her perfect lips. He jerked his hips forward and impaled her, relief flooding through him at being surrounded by her soft wetness.

Buffy made a strangled sound.

“Angel?” another female voice asked. “But…he has a soul. I thought he was supposed to be housebroken again.”

“Yeah, Cordy.” Buffy’s hands fluttered over Spike’s back, then wove themselves into his hair. She was meeting his thrusts while a smile played around the corners of her lips. “Angel has a soul. Didn’t stop him from draining me when he smelled my blood. It just meant he cried about it afterwards and then turned me.”

Anger ripped through Spike as she yet again said the berk’s name. He slammed into her harder, making her squeak. “Don’t say his name when I’m inside you,” he muttered in her ear before biting the lobe. Buffy kissed the front of his throat, making him tremble.

“So, um, if Angel’s your Sire,” the voice that belonged to Willow asked. “Why were you, ah, y’know…”

“Fucking Spike?” Buffy said, clamping down her inner muscles around his shaft and making his vision go blurry at the edges.

“Yeah, that,” the other Slayer said, laughing. “I have to say, B, vampirism might be good for you.”

“B,” Buffy repeated and her eyes lit up. “Buffy…Bitch…B. What do you think, pig, could you call me B?” He would call her anything she wanted as long as she didn’t stop shagging him. And as much as he liked the spark her anger had given her, he liked to see her happy more.

“Sure. Now come for me, B.” He braced a hand on the floor and ran the other over her neck and cheek. When she peaked he pressed his thumb into her mouth and she closed her lips around it to muffle her noises of pleasure. When her pussy stopped pulsing around him he pulled out of her and crawled up her body to straddle her stomach. His prick was slick with her juice and his palm slid easily over it as he fisted himself. Buffy looked confused for a moment, but the demon must have clued her in because her eyes cleared and her hands went to her breasts to play with them.

His stomach tightened and sac drew up and he peaked with a soft grunt. His come hit her tits and neck and pooled in the hollow of her throat. He cooed at her and he used his hands to rub in into her skin. “There’s my girl. Now you’ll smell so strongly of me even humans will know we’re together, that you’re mine.” He moved off her, but only to lie down beside her and snuggle against her side.

Buffy frowned and her human mask slid into place. She glanced at him, so he put away his fangs as well.

“Dear lord, what’s going on here?” the Watcher’s voice boomed through the apartment.

“Well,” said the other male, who hadn’t spoken up before. “We’re all standing here shocked because we walked in on Buffy doing the wild thing with a vampire, and she’s a vampire. And we’re all really upset and confused. Buffy and Spike are hiding behind the couch because they’re naked.”

“Does no one call before the come over anymore?” Giles said wearily. “Here, Willow, take this book and start translating it.”

“What language?” the girl asked.

“Latin, though the handwriting complicates matters. Buffy, your mother packed a bag of extra clothes for you.” A pink duffle bag sailed through the air to plop on the floor next to Buffy. She eagerly opened it up and began rummaging. “Spike, I’ll get your jeans from the dryer. Am I correct in assuming you’ll also need a new shirt?”

“Yeah, mate. Thanks.” A minute later a wadded-up ball of clothing with his jeans and a dark blue undershirt landed at his feet. He pulled them on and stood. Buffy had a sports bra on and a pair of plain, high-waisted panties. Her mum must have deliberately picked the most boring underwear his girl owned. Spike looked around the room before focusing on the other Slayer. She was all sultry eyes and wavy hair, but to him it looked like she was a little girl playing dress up. Who knew better than him how to hide under a bad attitude? “We going to have a problem?” he growled.

She arched an eyebrow. “The name’s Faith, and no, unless you’re going to try and eat me.”

Buffy made an unhappy noise from where she was getting dressed. She’d put a black peasant blouse on and was sliding blue jeans up her legs.

Spike sighed. Dealing with this Faith-chit was exhausting. “No, pet, certainly not.”

She smirked at him and winked. He turned his back on her.

“Cordelia, Oz, Xander,” Giles said. “Would you be so good as to start cleaning in the kitchen?”

“But we didn’t–“ Xander started before his bird grabbed his elbow and tugged. The boy immediately fell into line. No question who ruled that roost. Not that Spike had any wiggle room in that department. He actually found himself impressed that the kid had already figured out the natural order of things.

Giles was staring at his wall. “How did you two manage to get claw marks up…actually, never mind and forget I asked.”

“How’s Buffy’s mum doing?” Spike said, running his hand over his chest to try and get the wrinkles out of the shirt.

“She’s understandably upset. In a couple of days she’ll be ready to sit down and talk to Buffy again. I do think I convinced her you’re not quite the devil.”

“Lady’s still none too pleased with yours truly.”

“You know this because?”

“All the underwear she packed for Buffy would have my grandmother calling it prudish.”

The Watcher snorted with laughter. “To be fair, she did find you in flagrante delicto with her daughter.”

“I was just feeding her breakfast,” Spike muttered.

“For which I thank you,” Giles said. “I don’t know what I was expecting when Buffy rose, mostly an animal overcome with bloodlust I’d have to stake, but Buffy is still Buffy. I know to a large extent that’s due to you and…I appreciate it.”

“I’m helping her, not you.” Spike felt his world taking another hard turn. A Watcher, thanking him.

“Be that as it may, I am still thankful. Had it been her Sire there–“ Giles rubbed his chin. “I think if Angel had seen her rise with her fangs he would have killed her in shame.” Spike growled low in his chest. “He wouldn’t have seen Buffy. Now we both must work to keep her safe. There’s a Council wetworks team in town as well as another group, this one armed with guns and wearing camouflage. I do not think they have Buffy’s best interests at heart. They’ve already accosted Faith several times while she’s been patrolling.”

Faith looked troubled. “Like a lot of guys, they really didn’t seem to want to take ‘no’ for an answer. They'd be in my face until I promised to be a good little girl and go home, leaving the demon hunting to the professionals. I’m not one for doing what I’m told, but it’s different when you’re looking down the barrel of a gun.”

Spike crossed his arms. “I’ll keep Buffy safe.”

“I know you will.” Giles pressed his fingers against his temples. “There’s fresh blood for you on the pass-through, beef this time, if you feel so inclined.”

“Ta.” Spike took a step. “Do you have a safety pin?”

“Junk drawer in the kitchen. Why?”

“Lost the button to my trousers.”

The Watcher raised an eyebrow. “And you’re just now fixing it?”

Spike smirked. “It’s a recent problem.”

Giles suddenly seemed to find the corner of his desk very interesting. “Er, right.”

Spike leaned against the wall next to the pass-through, out of sight of the bickering teenagers in the kitchen. It made him rather pleased they were cleaning up after his and Buffy’s shag. He pulled one of the large Styrofoam cups from the bag on the counter and, finding it still warm, yanked the top off. Buffy had put trainers on and was leaning against the living room wall, clearly reluctant to join her friends in the kitchen, or even the redhead who was sitting at the dining table with a pad of paper and a Latin dictionary that Spike was fairly certain was the same edition he’d used himself in school.

He downed the blood greedily, the taste of the fresh beef not as abhorrent as rewarmed swine. His girl would need to eat again before morning, plus she was working him hard, the minx, and he needed to keep up his strength. Finishing one cup, he started in on a second before the hushed voices in the kitchen caught his attention.

“We should talk to her before we decide anything,” the short boy, whose name Spike still hadn’t caught, said. “Buffy deserves that much.”

“She’s not Buffy,” Xander replied tightly. “She’s a demon in a Buffy suit. We kill her, now.”

“Yeah,” Cordy agreed. She was examining her nails instead of helping clean. “I don’t want to be murdered by someone that unpopular.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way, exactly.” The redhead had abandoned her books to join the others. “But I can’t imagine Buffy would want to live like this. It’d be a mercy to stake her. And I don’t want my friend to kill me either.”

Spike gulped down the rest of the blood and slammed the cup back down, making the kids jump. He looked over at Buffy, hoping she hadn’t heard.

No such bloody luck.

Buffy’s eyes were wide and swimming with tears. Before he could take a step towards her, she bolted for the door and was through it, running into who knew what sodding danger. Her Watcher and the other Slayer were staring helplessly after her.

“If she gets hurt I’ll skin every last one of you alive and make you watch me wear your hides as frocks,” Spike promised. The kids’ faces paled. Spike slung his duster around himself and headed out into the night, following his girl.


	8. Are You Google?

Running was easy. She could do it forever. Only the thud of her heatbeat was missing. When Buffy halted, she had to clasp her hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles. She was in a graveyard. Upset, fleeing-her had gone straight to a cemetery for comfort. With a resigned sigh, she sat down and leaned against a marble tombstone.

Restfield, she thought, glancing around at the other markers before turning her gaze to the stars overhead. Her insides were a jumble and she hadn’t been able to handle hearing her best friends in all the world saying they wanted her dead. Though it was Willow’s words that weighed especially heavy. Buffy wasn’t supposed to like what she’d become. She was supposed to be a mess, hating herself, hating Bitch.

_Hey!_

“I like you just fine.”

_I like you too._

For a minute, her mind was rosy as the girl and demon sides shared warm and fuzzy feelings. For those moments neither part was separate from the other and she felt whole. It didn’t last, of course. She was ashamed of having put her friends in the position of wanting her dead because she’d managed to get herself  killed and turned into a vampire. What a useless Slayer she’d turned out to be. Angel had just been too strong. She’d hopelessly struggled against him as he’d pinned her to the floor and ripped open her neck. She’d been terrified. When she’d screamed, he’d mashed his hand over her face so she couldn’t even breathe.

The worst part was that she’d died still loving him.

She bowed her head and stared at the gray-green grass. Perhaps she should have told her friends she hadn’t chosen this, but that she was okay with it now. Not great, but totally with the okayness. Maybe she even understood Willow and Xander being afraid of her. After all, they’d been taught to be for good reason, but it still hurt. And she had no idea what to do about it.

_Kill them!_ Bitch gleefully suggested.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Really?”

_They were mean._

“But they’re my friends. I don’t want to hurt them and I think once they talk to me they’ll realize I’m still me and they won’t be reaching for stakes anymore.”

_Killing them would be easier…and they were mean._

“Well, if we kill them doesn’t it just prove that they should have dusted me first?”

Huh. Bitch seemed to be mulling that over. _If your mom is my mom, then your friends are my friends._ The demon part of her at last concluded. There seemed to be a cosmic shift inside her own skull as Bitch seamlessly intertwined itself around that part of her mind and accepted her friendships and family as part of itself.

_I still wish they weren’t so mean to us._

“Yeah, me too.” Like with the mirror, seeing her new-self reflected in her friends’ faces had been difficult because it wasn’t what she’d expected or what she was used to. They’d only seen a monster.

Buffy didn’t feel like a monster. She looked at her hands. They seemed the same as ever: strong and capable, able to wield a stake or punch an enemy in the face.

“Bitch,” she asked. “Are you a girl demon, or a boy demon, or do you even have a gender? How does that part work? I’ve been calling you “it” and that doesn’t feel right.”

_I’m you._

“Ah, female.” That was comforting. Bitch being like her made things easier.

There was the faintest twinge from her sex, as if Bitch was reminding her they shared a body. It made her pussy feel empty. Her stomach rumbled, empty as well. She absently rubbed at her middle. It was the first time she’d felt hungry since rising. Buffy glanced around without thinking, looking for the person who had kept her full, in every way, since she’d crawled from her grave.

She was alone.

“Spike?” she said in a tiny voice as the graveyard went from familiar territory to terrifying unknown. Every shadow could harbor a threat. Panic, fueled by her demon, was threatening to take over. She’d expected Spike to follow her, but he either hadn’t or was being slow, and she was by herself for the first time since she’d brushed off the dirt of her own grave.

Bitch was freaking out, screeching for him nonstop.

“Would you shut up?” she hissed, climbing to her feet and pushing away the terror so she could reorient herself. She wasn’t lost, or helpless, even if Bitch was still climbing the walls. “Okay, try this. Yes, he’s safety, and food, and…and…”

_Love?_ Bitch helpfully supplied.

“Yeah, that too.” Buffy sighed. Guess it wouldn’t kill her, uh, any more than she was already killed, to admit that. “But we’re far from helpless. We know right where we are and how to get back to Giles’ apartment.”

Bitch calmed down a fraction. _And then we’ll never leave him again._ It was a very emphatic declaration

“Never,” Buffy whispered in agreement. She was trotting towards the road that would take her back to Giles’ place when a man with a loaded crossbow stepped into her path, forcing her to stop. Another heartbeat became audible behind her. Buffy’s shoulders slumped. She’d been so focused on getting out of the graveyard that she’d walked right into an ambush.

The man standing in front of her with the crossbow was dressed like an extra from a mobster movie. “Well, lookie here,” he drawled in an accent that screamed New York. “Seems to me we caught ourselves a stray Slayer, Frank.”

“Sure thing, George. Only I hear she’s not a Slayer anymore.” The other man sounded like he hailed from the same part of the globe and as oily as a used car salesman.

Two men, no guns. “You’re Council,” she breathed. They didn’t smell afraid, and that terrified her. “Though you don’t sound like Council.”

“Recruited out of Hell’s Kitchen,” George said with a shrug.

“Over here, Buffy,” the man behind her called, stressing her name. She didn’t fall for the bait, keeping her eyes on George and the crossbow. After a moment, an object went spinning through the air and George caught it one handed, immediately brandishing it in her direction. A cross.

Bitch roared to the surface as Buffy stumbled backwards. Everything inside her churned.

“Had to be sure,” George said. The crossbow wavered the slightest amount as he prepared to fire. Buffy threw herself down and forward as George released the bowstring. The bolt hit the dirt where she’d been a second before. Buffy shot back to her feet and grabbed the crossbow from George with one hand, knocking away the cross with the other. She broke the bow over her knee and tossed the pieces to the ground.

“Okay, okay,” Frank said, hands raised placatingly as he came into her line of sight. He was older and thinner than his companion, but still dressed in the same ridiculous ‘Al Capone’ school of fashion. “Can we talk to Buffy again?”

Raising an eyebrow, she shook off her demon face. Bitch was oddly silent, or perhaps just not as separate as she usually was since they were dealing with a threat.

“Okay, Slayer,” Frank continued, his voice low and soothing. “I know you’re very frightened about what’s happened to you since you were turned.”

Uh, no?

“And that this is your nightmare made real, Slayer. We can help you. We can make it better. Your Watcher knows we’re here. We understand you don’t want to be hurting people, right, Slayer?”

Buffy rolled her eyes at the way he kept emphasizing her title. “Is that psychobabble supposed to work?” she snapped.  “Look, guys, I haven’t killed, or even hurt, anyone.”

George scoffed. “You’re a fledging vampire a day old, of course you’ve had to eat. At least somebody’s had to die, eh sweetheart?”

“George,” Frank warned. George must have gone off script.

Buffy huffed. “I said I hadn’t hurt anyone, I never said I hadn’t eaten.”

“I don’t think she’s going to go for the ‘come with us’ line,” George muttered, cracking his knuckles.

“Well, certainly not if I want to live!” Buffy warily took a few steps back.

“Look, little lady.” George pulled a stake from his jacket pocket.  “We’ve been training our whole lives for this scenario and I’m not going to let you ruin it.” Frank’s hand shook as he raised a knife to his own neck and drew a thin line down the side. Blood ran out of the shallow cut, but while she was hungry, she wasn’t even a tiny bit tempted.

Buffy put her hands on her hips. “Ew. Like I would ever!” Bitch was highly offended.

Frank looked lost. “That’s supposed to make you attack with uncontrollable blood lust.” Obviously a line from the training manual.

Buffy scoffed.

“Don’t think the bird’s interested in your neck, mate. Good try. A for effort.”

“Spike!” she cried. Relief flooded through her. Bitch was howling inside Buffy’s skull, desperate to get to him. Buffy nearly tripped over her own feet running to him. He put his arm around her and tucked her against his side. She knew she should apologize, or say something meaningful or witty, but coherent thought was difficult when she was so full of joy.  She gazed up into his face. “I’m hungry.”

“Not surprised, kitten. Let’s take care of these gits and get you somewhere safe to eat.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and it made her wiggle her hips in anticipation. Spike’s hand dropped down to squeeze her ass.

Frank and George both looked bewildered.

“Who do you think you are?” George finally asked.

“Boyfriend,” Spike replied.

“I thought you were with that Angel guy,” Frank said to Buffy, furrowing his brow.  

Spike tensed. “I get to take out that one.” He nodded in Frank’s direction.

“No killing,” Buffy murmured, even though Bitch harrumphed.

“Fine.” Spike didn’t sound very happy about that, but his hands still clenched into fists.

The wet-works guys had gone from acting like bullies to being something more akin to cows that’d just realized they were standing in line at the slaughterhouse.

Growling, Buffy launched herself at George. He squealed like a preteen girl at a boy band concert and tried to run, the stake falling forgotten from his hand. She grabbed the back of his jacket and snapped her fist into his skull, knocking him unconscious. So much for all that fancy training he supposedly had.

Frank was faring a little better. He still had ahold of his stake and there was an uncapped vial of holy water in his other hand, but judging from the easy grin on Spike’s face, Buffy wasn’t worried. Her vampire had everything under control.

With a jerk of his arm, Frank tried to slosh the water on Spike, but Spike easily dodged before whipping back around to kick the vial out of Frank’s hand. Spike paused and then gracefully sidestepped Frank’s lunge forward with the stake. Spike backhanded the Council’s man and Frank went to his knees. Making it look easy, Spike grabbed Frank’s collar and slammed the guy’s head into a tombstone hard enough to put his lights out.

Buffy surveyed the two unconscious men as they lay on the grass of the cemetery. “We probably can’t leave them here. I doubt we’re the only vampires out and about.”

“I just have to be with a Slayer,” Spike grumbled as he fished a set of keys out of Frank’s pocket and slung the man over his shoulder. “They’ll have a van in the parking lot.” Buffy hefted George up in a fireman’s carry and trailed after Spike. Sure enough, there was a big black van in the cemetery’s gravel lot. Spike unlocked the back and let out a low whistle. “They’re stocked up.”

There were enough supplies, from camping equipment to firearms, for a small army. Spike eagerly grabbed quite a few things before they dropped the two men inside the van, and closed it back up. He loaded Buffy down with gear, mostly things like flashlights, electric lamps, and pillows. He had an empty ice chest and several sleeping bags and pillows in his arms. “Do you have somewhere in mind?” she asked.

“Actually, yeah. The old crypts here have more than a few places to hide in ‘em.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You want me to sleep in a tomb?”

“We’re both dead, seems appropriate.”

She didn’t have a comeback for that one.

Spike dismissed a few different crypts before finding one that suited them. It was on the larger side with ivy growing over one wall of its white marble exterior.

“Home sweet home,” he said with a sweep of his arms. It was dusty, but there was a wonderful lack of coffins or dead bodies. Two heavy stone sarcophagi dominated the center. “The power lines run close by so I’ll be able to nab us electricity, and there’s a trap door to a lower level, so once we get things set up down there we’ll be safe as houses.” He was bouncing on the balls of his feet. “What do you think?”

It was a dirty crypt in a cemetery. There certainly wasn’t a white picket fence–Bitch recoiled at that dangerous idea–or even a sink. Buffy glanced at Spike’s expectant face. It wasn’t her idea of home by a long shot, but it did have one redeeming feature. She patted his arm. “As long as you’re here, it’s perfect.”

He smiled widely. “Now, help me move the lids on these sarcophagi, they weigh a bloody ton.”

With some grunting, they managed to open both of them. “Empty?” she asked, looking inside with a flashlight. There wasn’t a single moldering bone. It was almost a letdown.

“We’re probably not the first to use them as a hideout. Saves us time at any rate, not having to clean them out.”

Spike placed most of their supplies in one of the tombs and made a nest with the sleeping bags, pillows, and blankets they’d found in the van in the other. They wrestled the top of the sarcophagus with the supplies back into place. “I wish we didn’t need to hide,” she said as Spike shucked his duster and neatly folded it before placing it in the corner of the sarcophagus with the blankets.

“I know, luv, but as a vampire it’s going to feel like you’re always hiding. From folks who want to dust you, from other vamps that want to dust you, and even from ole Mr. Sunshine himself, who, coincidently, also wants to dust you.”

She fiddled with the hem of her shirt.

“It’s not so bad, B, I promise we’ll have fun together. There’s so many things I want to show you and do with you.” A shiver passed through his body. “Silver moonlight washing over your skin as we make love together on a hidden beach in Mexico, the lights of Paris spread out below us as I push inside you from behind at the top of the Eiffel Tower…” He sighed happily.

Bitch was quivering with excitement and Buffy giggled. “I like your pretty pictures, but they do seem to have a theme.”

“Can’t help it. You’re very inspirational.”

She blinked at him as warmth radiated out from her chest.

Spike paused with his shirt halfway off. “What’s that look for?”

“No one’s ever called me something like that before.”

“Wankers, all of them.” He pulled his shirt the rest of the way off. “There’s never been a muse like you. Now best strip down if you want your dinner.”

She almost told him to turn his back, only that’d be silly after everything they’d done together, so instead she quickly stripped down and piled her clothes in the opposite corner of the sarcophagus from his before jumping in and pulling a blanket over herself, feeling almost shy. She could hear him undoing his belt and her pussy clenched in anticipation.

He settled down beside her. “Help me with the lid, luv.”

“The lid? We have to close the lid?” It would be like being back in her coffin again and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

Spike tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “It’ll be okay. Trust me. I’ve never met a vampire yet who’s claustrophobic, almost universally small, dark places are a good thing to us. That sleeping in a coffin rumor got started for a reason.”

She looked up with trepidation at the heavy stone lid.

“Also, with it closed, if anyone looks in here the place will seem deserted. I doubt even the boys with guns your Watcher was talking about have the wherewithal to be searching every nook and cranny of every cemetery in Sunnydale.”

“Oh, right.” Couldn’t everyone just leave her and Spike alone?

Between the two of them, they hefted the lid closed and were plunged into absolute darkness. Buffy paused, but she found she really didn’t feel upset or scared. Bitch did indeed like being curled up cozily in the dark with Spike and Buffy found her whole body relaxing. Though she couldn’t see him, she rolled onto her side facing him and could hear him mirroring her position.

She put her hand out, running it over the smooth planes of Spike’s chest. Under her touch, his muscles shivered.  She traced one shoulder and bicep and trailed her nails down his forearm, over his waist to his bellybutton, and then lower to briefly stroke his already hard cock, before she raised her fingers to his face. He nuzzled into her palm as she outlined the bumps and ridges of his brow with her fingertips. “You wear your demon face a lot,” she said.

“Because you do.” His hand engulfed her hip, squeezing, then rose to tease her nipples.

“But I’m new, so I’m supposed to have my bumpies showing all the time.”

“Yeah, but you having your fangs out makes me eager to have mine on display as well. I adore your demon, pet, just as much as I do you, and I want to share that side of myself with you.”

His sweet words made Bitch writhe with happiness. Unfortunately, her mind dredged up the venom that’d been in her friends’ voices earlier that evening. “I’m glad someone likes Bitch, beside me,” Buffy whispered.

“Hey.” He planted kissed on her brow. “Give your mum and friends time. They haven’t figured all this out yet. You haven’t figured all this out yet for that matter, and I bleeding well sure as hell haven’t.”

“Do you really think they’ll eventually…forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. You didn’t choose this, but you’re making the best of it. And yes, your bleeding-heart, white-hat friends will get it through their thick skulls that you deserve much more than a dusty end. They’ll discover they’re still your friends. If there’s one thing I know about you lot, it’s that you stick together.”

She kissed his shoulder as his hand left her breast and glided down to knead her rear. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, though I do have half a mind to rip those panties your mom sent you to shreds. They go nearly up to your armpits.”

“Don’t you dare! Unlike some people I shall not mention, I’d feel weird without them on.”

“I feel weird when you do have them on.”

“It’s not your ass!”

His fingers flexed and his claws dug into the cheek of her behind. “The hell it’s not!”

She went a little cross-eyed from the pleasure that accompanied the pain. “Okay, maybe it kind of is.”

“That’s better. Now–“ He pulled her tight against him and helped her hook a leg over his hip so the head of his cock was brushing her sex. “I do believe it’s supper time.”

Buffy lapped at his neck and marveled at how peaceful she felt. Spike slid his cock into her at the same time her fangs pierced his skin. He rolled his hips slowly, making love to her as she gently sucked and swallowed his blood.

In the complete darkness of the tomb it didn’t matter if her eyes were open or closed. There were no other scents beside that of Spike’s and her own. His arm hugged her as they rocked together. He surrounded her and filled her. She was in paradise.

The slide of his cock in and out of her channel was all the more intense since she couldn’t see him. The connection felt elemental, a basic part of her.

Her clit was throbbing and she worked her hand between their heaving hips until she could sweep her fingers over the distended nub. Spike groaned and his thrusts became harder, sharper. They drove her relentlessly towards a climax.

Her belly tightened and she came with a whimper, then again, and again, again. She released her lover’s throat and lay panting as he increased the speed of his hips. He peaked, and she squeezed her inner muscles tight around him as his cock spasmed, making him curse and bark out her name.

When he was spent, Spike burrowed his nose into her hair. “Forever like this, kitten. Every morning and evening. It’s all I can think about. You, right here beside me for all eternity.”

“Yes,” she whispered. Spike was purring loudly now, and Bitch was accompanying him, the contented rumblings of their demons making her feel at peace. She wanted to go to all those places she’d only seen in calendar pictures, but only if Spike was at her side. For the first time, she had hope that she could. A Slayer couldn’t leave her post, but a vampire could go anywhere. It was thrilling. “Where will you take me first, when we can leave here?” she asked.

“To wherever your heart desires.”

The possibilities seemed endless.


	9. Can I Tie Your Shoe?

Spike had hated leaving Buffy alone, even for a moment, but he’d needed to run and get smokes as well as blood for his breakfast. Bag in hand, he walked as fast as possible back to the crypt, stopping before the door to make sure his hair was still slicked back and his duster was hanging evenly. He fully expected an armful of Buffy the instant he walked through the door, and if he was very lucky she’d be naked. And wiggly. With her pussy wet and eager for him, just how he liked her.

He rather pitied anyone that didn’t have their own version of Buffy to come home to.

Throwing back his shoulders and feeling every inch the big bad, he pushed open and sauntered through the crypt door.

The scent hit him first. The bag he’d been holding crashed to the floor.

His mouth wouldn’t work.

They’d pulled the bedding out of the sarcophagus onto the floor. They were both naked, with her on her back under him. Angel’s hips were rocking as he fucked Buffy in an easy, rolling rhythm. She was mewling and moaning, her claws cutting deep into her Sire’s back.

Pain lanced through Spike, sharper than he’d ever known. Buffy was supposed to be different. Instead it was bloody Drusilla all over again. Angel had shown up and Spike was tossed aside.

He watched, muscles frozen, as she kissed her way from Angel’s shoulder to his neck. Her fangs emerged and she bit greedily into her Sire. Spike could see her throat working as she swallowed Angel’s blood. To his horror, Spike felt his body react to the sight. His prick hardened, apparently unaware that Buffy’s feeding didn’t involve it anymore.

It felt like he was dying. A century of death catching up to him. Tears were blurring his vision. He had to get out of there. He wished for the sun, the pain would be less than the unbearable agony of his heart breaking, but his feet didn’t seem to want to move and he found he couldn’t look away from where Buffy and Angel were writhing together.

He couldn’t…

With a curse, Spike jerked awake. He sat up in the pitch dark, earning a bump on his head for his trouble. Panic and anguish were still coursing through him. He shoved the lid of the sarcophagus open and jumped out, panting with terror. He leaned against the other sarcophagus.

“Spike?” Buffy sleepily asked from behind him. He couldn’t reply. Buffy’s feet were light as she landed on the crypt’s dusty floor. “Spike? Is everything okay?”

He shook his head. The images from his nightmare were conflating with the very real memories of Angel and Drusilla. He bowed his head and cursed his damned prick. It was still hard, the head dark purple and weeping. He needed Buffy. He wanted her soft, slick cunt wrapped around his shaft, her tits in his hands, her fangs in his flesh.

“Come lay down for just a minute more. I promise it’ll be nice.” Her voice was unsure and he almost laughed at her clumsy attempt at seduction.

He didn’t want nice. He didn’t feel nice.

Buffy’s hand tentatively landed on his back.

“Spike?” Bloody hell, the chit sounded like she was scared it was him that would leave. What a sodding joke.

Growling, he grabbed her arm and yanked her so she was between him and the rough stone of the sarcophagus, her back to his front. He shoved a hand between her legs, frowning when he found her not ready. He pressed his palm against her and roughly rubbed at her pussy. “Do you not want me?” he snarled, but didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Get wet for me, Bitch. Let me know you want me to fuck you.”

Buffy moaned and pressed against his hand. “Want you,” she gasped.

He didn’t reply, but his other hand grasped her breast and squeezed before pinching her nipple hard between his fingers. Her juices were flowing now and his hand was slick with it. He grasped his aching prick and slid the head over her folds. “Tell me what you want.”

“You!” she cried, pressing her rear against him. He took a step back and his hand lightly smacked the cheek of her ass.

“Tell me what you want!” His demon was out and drunk on his anger.

“Fuck me!”

“Not good enough.” His palm cracked against her ass, leaving a bright red mark that looked lovely on her skin. He pulled his arm back, meaning to give her a matching handprint on the other side, but she whirled around, tears brimming in her all too human eyes. He froze. Where was her demon? It should be loving this.

Her hands slid over his chest and then his neck, ending up tangled in his hair. Slowly she pressed herself against him, her eyes searching his, until they closed and her lips met his. Her kiss was soft and tender and he responded in kind. His fangs receded and before he knew it his head had dropped to her shoulder and a shuddering sob wracked his body.

Soothing him, she pulled him over to the sarcophagus with the closed lid and perched herself on the edge, cradling his hips between her thighs. She reached down and stroked his cock a few times before positioning it at the opening to her body. Gently, she helped him slide inside her. Being held so sweetly by her snug pussy only made him weep all the harder. He had so much he wanted to say to her and none of it was coming out around the lump in his throat.

Buffy was kissing his neck and he tried to make his hips cooperate, to move how she needed him to. “Shh,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms and legs tightly around him. Her inner muscles squeezed his prick and tugged him even further into the haven of her body. Spike stilled under her hands as they glided up and down his back. Her tongue laved his neck, there was a pause, and then her fangs pierced his skin. He groaned and cupped the back of her head with one hand while the other arm snaked around her waist to hold her.

She was flush against him, barely rocking her pelvis as she drank. Her soft, heady moans as she sucked and swallowed were driving him out of his mind. “Yes, Buffy…” he managed to gasp out. Her body tensed and she came with a little cry, her pussy fluttering around his prick. “Please,” he begged, not sure exactly what he was asking for. Maybe everything, maybe nothing. “Please, Buffy. My Buffy.”

She came again and released his neck, burying her head against his chest. He artlessly thrust a few times and came, the pleasure and relief returning the tears to his eyes. They held each other for a long time afterwards, until Buffy hesitantly spoke up: “Erm, my butt’s kind of getting uncomfortable.”

He stepped back and she hopped down. As she walked by, she trailed a hand over his stomach, making the muscles tic. She bent over and grabbed their clothes out of the other sarcophagus. She handed him his, including his duster.

Once they were dressed, she put her hands on her hips and tried to look tough, which lasted for about five seconds before her gaze dropped to the crypt floor. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah, of course, luv.”

“Did I do something...wrong?” The last word came out as a squeak and she flinched, almost like she was expecting a blow. He had his arms around her in the next instant.

“No, Buffy. Not a thing. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I guess I thought your demon might want to play like that.”

She snuggled under his chin. “Play? Yes, totally, but that didn’t feel like playing. You were really mad and it scared the hell out of all of me: Buffy and Bitch.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again while nosing her hair. “I…I…” Christ, he wasn’t sure he could stand to let her in on the sodding truth. What if she laughed?

“It’s okay, you can tell me.”

Bloody hell, the chit could read his mind. “You’re Drusilla’s sister.”

“Ew.” Buffy sounded so disgusted it was cute. “I hadn’t really thought about it like that.”

“When I was first turned I believed Dru was my destiny, the one woman that would be mine to have and hold for all time.” Buffy had gone stiff in his arms and her demon had emerged. That calmed him as nothing else could have. He rubbed her arm with one hand. “I couldn’t have been more wrong. Angelus let me know–“ He had to stop and take a ragged breath. It still hurt. A century later and it still fucking hurt.

Buffy turned so her face was squished against his shoulder. She kissed him through his t-shirt, then there was a bright pain as her fangs replaced her lips. He shuddered, his toes curling as his girl declared him hers and anchored both of them in the here and now. It was enough to let him continue.

“I walked in on him shagging Dru, when I was still a fledge. I was always nothing compared to her Daddy. This morning, I was dreaming I came back here and found you doing the same thing, only you were drinking from the wanker as well. And…god, I’m sorry, Buffy. It was killing me and I had to know…that you still needed me. Suppose I could have handled that better.”

Buffy released his shoulder and stepped back, looking up into his face. “I do need you,” she said.

He smiled and traced a finger down her cheek. “Ah, luv, no you don’t.”

Her brows drew together.

The door to the crypt flew open with a bang.

“See!” the redhead from the night before, Willow, shouted over her shoulder. “I told you the spell would work. They’re right here!”

Spike drug a hand down his face. “Does no one in California knock? Ever?” He’d had more to say to Buffy, about how she was strong and capable of taking care of herself, but that he loved that she thought she needed him and the he would be there for her and care of her for as long as she wanted him to.

Giles followed Willow into the crypt. “Sorry,” he said and at least looked ashamed. “I got a call from a very distraught Council team warning me that my Slayer had indeed risen and was teamed up with a notoriously evil vampire.” Spike perked up at that. Notorious, was he? Buffy elbowed him and he rubbed at the spot. Girl had boney elbows. The Watcher held out a plastic sack towards Spike. “I asked them why they were still breathing. They didn’t have an answer for that one.”

Spike took the offered bag. “You know the reason for that.” He glanced at Buffy before checking the sack. There were cups full of still-warm blood in the bag and Spike eagerly pulled one out. He put the others down beside one of the sarcophagi. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, and yes, Buffy, I’m glad to see my trust was not misplaced.”

Buffy ducked her head, but she was smiling.

“Is it very weird?” Willow asked from where she was standing.

“Kind of?” Buffy held out her hand towards her friend. Buffy had her human mask in place and she was doing her best to look non-threatening.

Willow edged forward until she could touch Buffy. “Oh, chilly.” Willow’s other hand played with the hem of her sweater while she studied Buffy’s face. “Um, I’m sorry about what I said.” Willow’s voice was tiny.

“I get it.” Buffy shrugged. “I would have been sharpening my stakes if it’d been you or Xander.” Willow bit her lip as Buffy continued. “But now that you know I’m still kind of me, can you maybe talk to me about any weirdness, instead of just trying to kill me?”

Willow nodded and enveloped Buffy in a bear hug. “I missed you and I hated you being dead. And guess what, Faith found out the mayor is a total demon sleaze-ball who’s going to try to start an apocalypse or something and that’s what we were meeting about last before, uh…”

Buffy was hugging her friend back. “Before you ran into me and Spike?”

“Yeah. Hey, your hair is really glossy.”

“Is it?” Buffy pulled a strand in front of her face, going a little cross-eyed as she looked at it. “I haven’t even washed it since I woke up. Which I kind of would like to do soon. Do you think shampoo and stuff will work the same?”

Spike rolled his eyes as the two girls stood arm in arm and delved into a serious sounding discussion about hair care. Giles looked perplexed. “Let the birds chatter,” Spike said when the Watcher started to interrupt. “It’s making ‘em happy.”

“Usually I would, but we ran into someone on the way over here and, well, I think Buffy might want to see him.”

Spike’s heart tumbled to the floor along with his stomach. Giles stuck his head out the crypt’s door and waved. A few seconds later Spike’s skin crawled with the sensation of his Grandsire and the other Slayer, Faith, walking towards the place he’d planned on making a home.

Buffy stopped talking mid-sentence and turned towards the door, her face blank. Willow at least looked nervous.  

“Hey, B!” Faith waved at Buffy. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Angel followed the Slayer through the door. His eyes immediately focused on Buffy. She visible started and her demon rose to the surface. Angel flinched. Spike didn’t know what to do as he watched Buffy struggle to try and push the demon back, finally sighing in defeat. “Hi, Angel,” she said around her fangs.

“Turns out tall and dark here couldn’t make the party because he was a guest of those soldiers we’ve seen running around.” Faith flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“Oh,” Buffy said.

“I’m sorry, Buffy.” Angel’s voice was low. “I…I can’t ask forgiveness. Or even understanding.”

Vaguely, Spike was aware that Giles had rounded up the humans and got them out of the crypt, shutting the door as they left. At least now Spike wouldn’t have to deal with the tension of having a fledge and a Slayer in the same room.

Angel stalked towards Buffy like she was a frightened deer that would bolt at any second. At last he settled a hand on her shoulder, then pulled her into a hug that Buffy remained stiff during. When he released her, she retreated until her back met the wall. Angel followed, resting his hands on either side of her head.

Spike’s chest was heaving with conflicting emotions. Part of him wanted to fight, to slam his fist into Angel’s face. The sod was out of practice and Spike was sure he could win. Mostly sure, anyway. But this wasn’t his choice. Buffy had to make a decision. And he would have to live with it, at least until the sun rose or he could get his hands on a stake.

Spike fished a smoke and his lighter out of his pocket. It was the first one he’d had since Buffy had risen. His hands shook as he lit it.

Angel was leaning in close to Buffy, who was staring wide eyed up at him. Spike felt ill. It was like watching someone signing his death warrant in slow motion. Buffy had gone into the ground loving the berk, no reason to think anything had changed. Whatever crap his Grandsire was telling Buffy, Angel’s voice was so low Spike couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it sure had Buffy’s attention.

_Should have told her you loved her_ , William whispered. Bloody hell, a visit from his human side was not what he needed right now. _We’ll die and she’ll never know._ She had to know, didn’t she? He should have said it to her, so later, when she figured out Angel loved no one but himself, she would know that at least someone had cared for her.

With a sigh, Spike leapt up to sit cross-legged on the closed lid of the other sarcophagus so he’d have a real good seat to watch his life end.

Buffy said something to Angel, finally, and the reply was clear as Angel reached up to tap the side of his neck. “It’s nothing compared to Sire’s blood.” Angel tipped his head to the side. “Just try, you’ll see.” Buffy’s brow furrowed and the tip of her pink tongue slipped past her fangs to moisten her lips.

Spike wanted to close his eyes, to look away from the nightmare, but he couldn’t, and this time it wouldn’t end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grandpa: She doesn't get eaten by the eels at this time.  
> The Grandson: What?  
> Grandpa: The eel doesn't get her. I'm explaining to you because you look nervous.  
> The Grandson: I wasn't nervous. Maybe I was a little bit concerned, but that's not the same thing.


	10. Know What's On the Menu?

The world wasn’t making sense.

Buffy was staring up into Angel’s face but feeling lost. With no warning, he’d just appeared and it’d sent her mind tumbling end over end. The last time she’d seen him, he’d killed her. Turned her. And that turning was the problem, because she’d been unprepared for how it’d feel to be in the same room as the one who’d made her.

 _Sire_ , Bitch was whimpering. Angel’s scent was both strange and familiar all at once.

Something deep and instinctual was tugging at Buffy, telling her to do what her Sire wanted. He was supposed to take care of her, be what she needed. There was an even ookier feeling, like Angel was in her brain and poking at all those instincts to make them louder.

He was whispering things to her, stuff about how sorry he was that he hadn’t been there for her when she’d first risen and about how he was here now to make things better.

She got stuck on the word better. Better than what? It wasn’t like Angel could turn the clock back.

Angel finally muttered something that made her really pay attention. “Giles told me about how you’ve been feeding, Buffy.” His expression changed from the blandly earnest one he’d been wearing the entire time to one of narrow-eyed speculation.

Buffy managed to speak. “I’ve been doing okay with that,” she murmured.

Angel touched his neck and spoke louder. “It’s nothing compared to Sire’s blood.” Her eyes locked onto his throat. “Just try, you’ll see.”

 _Sire?_ Bitch whined. Buffy was so confused. She was supposed to do what he said, and she could feel him in her head, urging her to bite, drink. Only she wasn’t hungry. She scrunched up her nose. She’d already had breakfast. The memory of the bone deep satisfaction of her fangs in Spike’s neck while holding his cock in her core surfaced through the haze Angel’s presence was creating in her mind.

Spike.

Wait.

What was going on? Angel…he wasn’t the one that cared for her. He was her murderer, she would be nothing but shame to him. It felt like Bitch was tearing claws through the inside of Buffy’s skull as both she and her demon fought to push away the…whatever Angel had been doing to them.

“Buffy?” Angel asked, voice low and warm.

No! She silently screamed at him and snapped her head forward, breaking Angel’s nose. The blood that spattered down his face wasn’t even tempting.

With a cry, she ducked under his elbow and dashed for the safety of Spike’s arms. He was sitting on top of a sarcophagus, cigarette between his fingers and shock stamped on his face. He flicked the butt of his smoke away as she ungracefully clambered onto the stone lid and crawled into his lap. She straddled him, wrapping her legs around his waist and arms around his neck, needing to feel as close to him as possible. She scrunched her eyes closed and nuzzled her face against his neck, breathing in deep gulps of his scent. His arms locked tight around her. Bitch was trembling.

“What the bloody hell did you do to her?” Spike snarled.

There was no reply.

“He tried to take me away from you,” Buffy sniffed. “He was in my head…but he doesn’t really care. I’m a game.”

Spike ran a hand through her hair. “Not to me you aren’t.” He raised his voice. “She’s right, isn’t she? Maybe you had some fucking excellent intentions when you walked in here, but they flew out the sodding window once you saw her with me.”

“She reeks of you.” Angel punctuated his words with a disgusted snort. There had been a tiny spark of hope in her chest that maybe she’d been wrong, that Angel still saw her as Buffy, but with that remark it died. She dug her claws into Spike’s shoulders.

“I should bloody hope so!” Spike said, indignant.

“What are you doing, Spike?” Angel’s voice was almost bored. “Did Dru drop you again? You needed a crutch until she crooked her finger at you? And don’t doubt that, Buffy, you’re just a fill in, a wad of Kleenex he’s jerking into until Drusilla decides she wants him back. She always does, and he’ll always go running.”

Buffy’s stomach roiled, but she clenched her jaw and made a choice. A choice to believe that the words and feelings of the man holding her were real, and not the poison dripping from the mouth of her killer. Bitch agreed, glowing happily at Buffy’s trust in Spike.

“I’m not even going to bloody respond to that load of claptrap.” Spike’s voice was deceptively calm. His claws were sunk into her and his muscles were tensed. He was pissed. “You killed a Slayer, congrats, Angel. Didn’t think you had it in you, but we both know if you’d watched her fight her way out of the ground that your soul-having ass would have dusted her. Would she be anything to you besides a constant reminder of your sin? And if you didn’t off her, you’d forever be punishing her simply for existing. You might have fooled yourself into believing you loved the girl, but with that soul you’d never love a demon, and without it…you’ve never loved anything at all.”

There was a low growl from Angel. “Buffy, listen to me. I sired you. It is my duty to care for you. I know it’s hard for you to think right now, but come with me. I don’t know why it hasn’t already been done, but I’m sure Giles and Willow can restore your soul. Things will be clearer for you then, with the demon caged.”

It felt for all the world like Bitch had collapsed into a little, miserable heap.  _Is that what you really want? For me to go away?_

Well, no. Buffy had kind of gotten used to sharing. And Bitch was really fun, she had all the good ideas.

Spike laughed. “You seem to have forgotten that curse comes with an escape clause, and her Watcher knows I’ve been keeping my girl very, very happy.” Buffy lifted her head and rubbed her cheek against Spike’s. He had been making her happy, and not just with the sex stuff. Though she wasn’t complaining on that front.

Angel scoffed.

Buffy twisted her torso just enough to that she could see him, standing there, fists clenched and wearing a look of righteous indignation. “Go away, Angel. I don’t want you. I most certainly don’t need you. This is my home, and I don’t want you in it.”

His eyes darted around the tomb and he looked like he’d been slapped.

“It fits,” she said. “I’m a dead thing. You made me a dead thing.” Angel’s eyes grew pained. “So haven’t you done enough? Let me have what happiness I can and go away.” She snuggled against Spike again and petted the nape of his neck.

“Buffy, you’re delusional. Spike will not stay with you, he’s just playing house with you until–“ Angel broke off and a wail echoed inside the crypt. Buffy whipped back around. Angel was on his knees, clutching his head. “No,” he moaned. “They’re calling me.”

“Little green men?” Spike asked, eyebrow raised.

Angel had a hand over one eye, but he fixed Spike with a baleful stare. “I was captured by the soldiers. Spent a few nights in their cells, they gave me a little addition: a shock collar in my brain. There’s a control box. They let me out…and they said they’d call me back. I guess this is the call.”

“Angel, if you go tattling about seeing Buffy…“ Spike trailed off as he settled Buffy onto the stone lid of the sarcophagus and jumped to the floor.

“I may not like you, Spike, but don’t worry, there are some lines even I won’t cross.” Angel pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly. Buffy shivered as Angel’s gaze fixed on her for a minute, and then he was gone. Spike thunked the crypt’s door closed behind Angel and turned to lean his back against it.

“That was fun. All puppies and sodding rainbows.”

Buffy trembled. Her mind was chasing its own tail and Bitch was still in a boneless heap.

“You doing okay, pet?” Spike came to stand beside where she was sitting on the sarcophagus. She shook her head and Spike sighed. “I know Angel threw you for a loop. Can I do anything to make it better?”

“I don’t know.” She pulled her knees up and rested her crossed arms on them.

He rubbed her ankle with the fingers of one hand. “What’s the worst of it?” His eyes were clear blue and all too perceptive as they gazed into hers. Slowly his ridges and fangs emerged and blue changed to yellow, a mirror of her own.

Somehow, it made it easier to tell him. “Angel was in my head.” She dropped her gaze. “I almost did something I didn’t want to.” Spike waited, his fingers still on her ankle. “And…and…part of me…there was a certainty. It felt right to do what he wanted me to.”

“And you liked that.”

She nodded.

“C’mere.”

Buffy scooted over until Spike could help her down. He hugged her tight.

“It’s okay, luv.” His voice was hoarse. “Angel’s your Sire. You’re supposed to feel that way. I keep forgetting how bloody new you are. And…” he hesitated, lowering his head to run his tongue over her neck. “And I can’t quite make it the same, don’t have the Sire link, but I think…no, I’m sure, that I can make you feel that way, give you that certainty, if you want.”

Bitch sat up at last, but seemed worried. Buffy didn’t quite know what she wanted either.

“Would you hurt me?” she asked.

Spike cocked his head and grinned. “Not more than you’d want me to.”

Excitement was coiling low in her belly. Something inside her craved what he was offering. “Yes.”

He chuckled. “Yes, sir.”

For a second she was confused, but then she got it. Taking a step away from Spike, she sank to her knees and bowed her head. “Yes…sir.” She almost giggled, but Bitch hushed her. Bitch wanted this very, very badly.

Spike stripped off his duster and draped it over the edge of the open sarcophagus, then came to stand in front of her. “Let’s start with something easy, shall we?”  Buffy’s pussy pulsed and she could smell her own arousal. What would Spike consider easy? Maybe a hand job? Her nipples tightened. She could undo his belt and he could tell her how to move her hand…

“First, B, let me see your human face. I know Bitch will take the commands, but the girl needs to as well.”

What? She snorted.

Spike caught her chin in his hand and lifted it so their gazes met. He didn’t look upset. A smile raised one corner of his mouth. “Buffy, if we’re going to do this, you have to trust me. Do you? Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Of course she did.

“I’ll keep you safe. If you need to stop, for any reason, say, er…wheelchair. And I trust you too, okay?” His face became serious. “I trust you to use that word if you need to. I might push you, make you uncomfortable, it’s part of how this works, but if it’s really too much…you have to stop me. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled. “Good girl.” His fingers left her face and she bowed her head again. “Now, let’s start over. B, human face.”

She pushed back the demon. Bitch didn’t go very far, she was hovering right under Buffy’s skin.

“Good.”

Buffy’s whole body felt on edge. What was he going to want her to do? God, she hoped it was a blow job. Her mouth watered.

“Untie my boots.”

Huh? She almost looked up, but Bitch poked at her and told her that wouldn’t be a good idea. So instead she hunched down and undid Spike’s laces. When she was done, he toed off his boots and removed his socks, placing them by the side of one of sarcophagi.

“Stand.”

She did.

“Undress.”

That was easy enough. She did quickly and dropped her clothes next to where he’d left his boots and socks.

“Back on your knees.”

Buffy lowered herself down with a smile playing over her lips. This was fun.

There was a scraping noise as Spike opened the sarcophagus with the supplies in in, retrieved something, and closed the lid. He knelt in front of her. “Hold out your hands.” She did, and he used a short length of rope to bind her wrists together. It made her a little nervous, because if they were attacked how would she defend herself? It really was a lot of trust to place in someone else.

Spike pulled one of the thicker blankets out from where they’d slept, folded it over once, and laid it on the crypt floor in front of Buffy.

Spike walked around so he was behind her. “Don’t get up, but move onto the blanket.”

Feeling kind of silly, she shuffled forward until she was on the blanket. Her knees were grateful for the padding. “Thank you, sir.”

Spike grunted and kneeled behind her, trapping her legs under his. He was still wearing his jeans and the fabric was rough against her calves. He skimmed his fingers over her hips, then upwards to cup her breasts. He kneaded them roughly. “I love your tits, kitten. Love playing with them, they feel just right in my hands: soft, firm, and with the hard points of your nipples letting me know you like the attention.” She did like him touching her breasts, his fingers sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core. She moaned and thrust her chest forward into his hands. “You want to know a secret?” he murmured in her ear.

“Y-y-yes, sir.”

“I don’t always give a fuck if you’re enjoying it. Sometimes I do, but sometimes I just want to use them for my pleasure. Want to bite them, suck them, rub my face or my cock on them. Does that bother you?”

“It doesn’t bother me, sir. And I know how it feels.”

“Do you?”

“I feel that way sometimes about your…your…”

“Out with it.”

“Your cock. I hope what I’m doing makes you feel good, but mostly I want to use it to get myself off.”

He ground his erection, still in his jeans, against her ass. “Want my prick, do you?”

“Yes, sir!” She wanted it badly, wanted him to shove it deep inside her. Her pussy was aching with need.

“Want me to pound my big, hard cock into your slick cunt?”

She giggled at his crassness. “Spike!”

Abruptly, he was gone from behind her and she gasped. She started to turn but his voice snapped at her. “Stay still.” She did, head bowed. “I, not you, get to decide what language to use. You’re not a blushing school miss, you’re a vampire. And getting my cock? That’s a reward. You have to earn it.”

The specter that she might not be good enough for him to want to fuck her raised its head. Part of her knew that was nonsense, but she had almost put her fangs in someone else. She might have a lot of making up to do before he’d want to be inside her again. “I understand, sir.”

“Good.” He resumed his position behind her and grabbed her breasts again. “I still need to make sure you learn your lesson.” He pinched her nipples and pulled, making her suck in a sharp breath. He tugged way past the point of comfort and held them tight. A burning pain set in. She whimpered, but he didn’t relent. It hurt, but Bitch was over the moon. Buffy’s fangs dropped and she squeezed her knees together, lost somewhere between enjoying herself and hating it. Her body was tense, coiled for…something. Spike let go abruptly of one nipple, then the other.

She yelped as twin explosions of pleasure blasted out from her breasts to flood her entire body. It wasn’t quite enough to make her come, but it was close. Her pussy was throbbing and her clit aching to be touched. Spike’s arms were strong around the middle, holding her up as she sagged.

“Did you like that?” he purred.

“I-I don’t know, yet.”

Spike chuckled and helped her to find her center of balance. Once she was stable, his hands started petting her, running over everywhere: her front, back, ass, thighs, shoulders, and taking turns to stroke her hair. At last he slid one between her legs but, to her frustration, he only stroked his palm over the outer lips of her pussy.

“You smell so wonderful, kitten. It makes me so damned hard for you.” He laid his cheek against her head. “Do you remember fighting together that first time, in the school?”

“Um, yeah.” That’d been like a year ago. She blinked. Huh. Weird how things changed.

“After that…well, right after I went back and strung up the Anointed One, and then watched the telly with Dru, but when she fell asleep I wanked like crazy over you. Came so hard, remembering your scent, that I nearly blacked out. Thought I was going bloody bonkers.” His hand stroked her pussy a little more firmly. “What do you think of that?”

“I like it.” She hadn’t had to think very hard to know that. Sixteen-year-old her might have been horrified, but she wasn’t that girl any more. And honestly…even that version of her might have acted more icked out than she would have really been.

“I like it…sir,” Spike reminded her, swatting her pussy in a punishment that nearly had her going over the edge again.

“I like it, sir,” she repeated, and then wavered. She had her own secret from that night, but wasn’t sure she should tell him. It’d just remind him that she really wasn’t very experienced.

Only it seemed he could read her mind. “Have something to say, B? I want to hear it.”

“It’s about that night, sir.” She could hardly believe she was going to tell him this.

“Go on.” His hand was petting her again in that infuriating not-quite-enough way.

“Um,” she bit her lip, but had forgotten about her fangs and was startled when one pierced her lip and a trickle of blood ran down her chin. Spike fisted her hair and yanked her back against his shoulder, turning her face towards him.

“Human features,” he said. She immediately shifted, then shuddered as he licked the blood from her skin and kissed her lips. “Now continue,” he commanded when he released her mouth.

Her tongue tripped over itself trying to obey. “Well, you see…sir…uh, that night, after I laid down…I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And it ached, between my legs, so I started t-t-to touch myself, down there, and I thought about you, even though you scared me. And I really didn’t know what I was doing, and it got more and more intense and then…I came. I know now that I masturbated to orgasm, but at the time I was shocked and embarrassed. I’d never gotten off before.”

“What?”

“That night you attacked the school was the first time I came.”

“Buffy…” He trailed off and his hands left her along with the rest of him. She was worried for a second, until she heard the sound of him frantically undoing his belt and zipper. “Bend over, brace yourself on your arms.” Feeling awkward, she did as she was told, leaving her ass in the air. “Spread your legs.” She complied and was alarmed when she could feel her juices running over her pussy to drip onto the blanket. Spike grabbed her hips and slammed the entire length of his cock into her. Bitch crowed and Buffy moaned. “So slick,” Spike growled. “Were you like this that night? Pussy greedy and wet as you fingered yourself while thinking of the big bad?”

He was jackhammering her, the relentless pounding of his dick into her channel making it hard to think. “Yes, sir,” she cried as she tried to put the pieces together. Why had her girly fumblings…

“That was the first time you came?” he asked, voice strained.

It clicked. Of course. It was a little piece of herself that belonged to him. “Yes, sir.” Those unsure touches she’d been ashamed of turned into something else. Bitch was ecstatic. Spike had taught Buffy something about herself that day, and now she was proud of it and happy he’d been in her thoughts when she’d tipped over into that first, unexpected orgasm. She’d never dared tell anyone about that night before, but she felt so safe with him. He’d take care of her. Bitch agreed, snuggling into the warm emotions.

“Come for me now, Buffy. Come for your Spike.”

When he was fucking her into the floor? She almost said something, only apparently her body had other ideas. She was tightening up, her stomach clenching, her thighs shaking, and she came with a loud wail, the pleasure overwhelming her hearing and vision, leaving only the feeling of his steel-hard cock thrusting relentlessly inside her.

“Oh, kitten, your cunt feels so wonderful when you come. Love it, love how it yanks on my prick, milks it.” His claws were digging deep into her hips. “Wish I could keep fucking you forever, but you feel too bloody good…oh god.” He roared as he peaked, his cock jerking as he flooded her channel with come.

Spike collapsed against her back, panting. His spendings were leaking out of her, she could smell it, the addictive scent of his completion. Longed to taste it.

Sighing contentedly, Spike swiped around where his shaft was still wedged deep inside her. He reached up and brought his hand to her lips. Smiling, she lapped the mix off his fingers.  “How’d you know that was what I wanted?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Know how to take care of my girl.” As he straightened up, his cock slid from her body and she whimpered at the loss of contact. The world always made so much more sense when he was inside her.

“Aren’t you going to untie me?” she asked, looking over her shoulder.

Spike’s grin was wolfish. “Do you really think I’m done with you?”

A new spark lit in her belly and Bitch was having joyful fits. Buffy sat back on her heels and lowered her eyes to the floor. “No, Sir.”


	11. Are You Religious?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: Spike and Buffy get pretty deep into D/s territory in this chapter. As such, Buffy is going to be saying things like no and stop, and Spike won’t. I feel I need to remind readers that this is all completely consensual.**

Bugger.

Spike silently cursed himself for losing control. That wasn’t what Buffy needed at the moment, but the thought of her innocently rubbing herself until she exploded because she’d been hot for him…it’d been too much. His brain had left the building and he’d had to have her, right then and there. Spike was all too aware that the Slayer who’d existed before she’d been turned hadn’t liked him much, most certainly she hadn’t loved him. That honor, that first love, went to Angel. The thought was ice in Spike’s belly. He kicked his jeans the rest of the way off with more force than was necessary.

His eyes swept up and down her kneeling form, and, with difficulty, he caged his jealousy. She was young and it wasn’t her fault her first love and lover had turned into a monster, and then a proper idiot.

There was tiny, very uncomfortable part of his mind that was grateful to Angel. If he hadn’t killed Buffy, if Bitch hadn’t become part of her…Spike was too aware that Buffy would never have cared the littlest bit for him. He could have spent his life turning himself inside out for her while she’d been alive and it wouldn’t have mattered, she’d just have kept sighing over Angel. Spike curled his hands into fists as he fought for control again. It was tempting to stick his prick down her throat. She’d be hard pressed to think about anything else while he fucked her face.

But, no, still not what she needed.

Buffy had been spooked by feeling that there was an instinctual need to throw herself on the goodwill of her Sire. Not that Angel had anything close to tender mercies. It was a fledge response, to follow the one that made you and do what you were told. She needed to feel that way, craved it. So Spike wanted to give her that certainty, have her let go and completely lean on him for safety and security. It wasn’t only her, either. He was desperate to have her do it, to give him that control. It wouldn’t be an all-the-time thing, but if they could reach that point once in a while…it’d do them both a lot of good.

He just hoped he was up to the task. He curled a hand around his once again straining cock. It was certainly up for anything to do with Buffy, but maybe words first to get her back towards letting him take control. She was probably feeling smug after he’d been unable to stop himself from frantically pumping into her.

“I’m curious, luv. Do you still play with yourself? How do you get yourself off when you’re alone in your bed?”

Her shoulders tightened and he thought for a moment she was going to protest, but then she relaxed. Good.

“Mostly I use my fingers on my clit. It doesn’t take me very long, usually. Sometimes I’ll play with my breasts a little first.”

There was the smallest hitch in her voice, which he pounced on. “You need to tell me everything, B.”

Again, there was almost disobedience followed by her acquiescence. Every time put her a little more firmly under his sway.

“I’m really embarrassed about this.”

“There’s nothing you can say that’d upset me.” Not quite true. He didn’t want to listen to her talk about how she rubbed herself while dreaming of being in Angel’s arms or the like, but he didn’t think that was what she was on about.  

“This last summer, I, um…I bought a dildo.”

“Did you?” His eyebrow went up. What a deliciously naughty thing for her to have done. “How’s it compare to yours truly?”

Her head cocked to the side. “Um, it doesn’t move on its own and I’m sure it wouldn’t taste as good?”

Spike chuckled. “I meant in size, kitten.” He went to the open sarcophagus and pulled out a pillow. She might be needing it for her knees soon. He dropped it behind her on the blanket while she shifted uneasily. “You going to answer to question?”

“Uh, yes…yes, sir.” She paused again. “It’s not very big. I was sort of scared of the larger ones. And it’s sparkly purple, because getting one that was person colored felt weird.”

She was bloody adorable.

He was glad she was turned away from him and couldn’t see his goofy grin. It pleased him to no end that he was able to stretch her more than her toy. His eyes meandered down to the curves of her ass. “This bit of sparkly plastic, you ever slide it in your other hole?”

He was pleased she didn’t hesitate with her answer this time. “No. I never even thought about that sort of thing…before. It kind of seemed wrong.”

“Still feels a smidge naughty, even as a vamp. Though it’s not like that bit of you has any other use now.”

Her toes curled and relaxed. “Huh. I hadn’t thought about it that way…sir.”

Spike ran his tongue over his teeth. It was perfect. She’d told him she wanted him to fuck her in her backdoor and it was something she hadn’t done to herself, let alone permitted Angel access to. Plus, there was probably just enough uncertainty that she’d find herself a tad more reluctant to really let go and enjoy it. It would scratch his own itch as well, being the first to take her like that. His cock jerked in his hand, eager to start. He rubbed himself absently as he used the other hand to fish out a bottle of purloined lotion from his duster pocket. He had actual lube in his car, but this would have to do for now.

He considered her graceful form again. Easiest way was to have her bend over like she had been before, but he wanted to see her face, to see the exact instant that the pain turned to pleasure and the moment she would stop fighting him and throw open all her doors.

“Lay on your back,” Spike commanded.

She made it look easy to do, even with her wrists bound.

“Put your arms over your head.”

She hesitated an instant before doing so, but he didn’t call her on it. Christ, what a sight she was. Her golden hair tousled and streaming across the blanket, her nipples pebbled and begging to be tasted, her sweet lips parted as she stared at him. Mostly it was at his crotch, where nearly all the blood in his body seemed to be located, but he wasn’t complaining. There were worse things than his girl ogling his prick.

Her knees were together and over to one side. That wouldn’t do. “Spread your legs,” Spike grunted. Slowly, she lifted them and her knees fell open. He snagged the pillow he’d dropped on the quilt before lowering himself so he was between her ankles. He patted her hip. “Lift up.” She did, and he slid the pillow under her bottom. It elevated everything and gave him easy access.  His hands went to her legs and pushed them wide apart. Glancing up at her face he found her looking uncomfortable and biting her lip. Leaning forward with his hands on either side of her body, he brought his mouth to hers, kissing her until she started to relax. “No worries,” he whispered against her lips. “Spike’s got you.”

She nodded and relaxed further, trusting him. It was heady stuff. He kissed his way down her neck, growling silently at the scar left on her neck by her Sire, and continued down to her breasts. He rubbed his face against them, rumbling his enjoyment. What a fine set of tits she had. He caught a nipple in his mouth and suckled as she gasped and mewled. He switched to the other and she arched up against him. He teased the hardened tip, gently tugging on it with blunt teeth. Rearing back, he inspected his handiwork. Her breasts were swollen, the nipples wet and distended. It was a lovely look for her.

“Sir…” she started, but trailed off.

“Go on,” he said, running the tip of his tongue around one areola.

“Spike…am I your girl?” Her voice was tiny and broken.

He very nearly laughed. He was kneeling naked between her legs with a hard on for her that could cut glass, it should be obvious they belonged to each other. He stretched along her body until he could rest his forehead against hers. Her beautiful green eyes were filled with fear as they locked gazes. Fuck Angel and his lying mouth. Buffy was terrified Spike really was just wasting time with her.

“Buffy, the only thing that’s mattered in my entire life is that you crawled out of your grave and into my arms. I am never letting you go. Do not let anyone,” he growled to emphasize his point, “make you think otherwise.”

She let out a sigh and her eyes fluttered closed as she sank back against the quilt. “Yes, sir.”

Spike dragged his hands over her curves, pleased she hadn’t argued with him. He sat back on his heels and let his gaze luxuriate on her pussy. She was swollen and wet, her clit peeking out at the top of her folds. His come was dripping from her opening, a sweet reminder that he’d just been inside her. Though the demanding ache in his prick and balls made it feel like it’d been days since he’d come, not minutes.

Bending down, he pressed his face into her cunt, breathing in her scent. He ran the flat of his tongue up her folds and gently sucked her clit, making her cry out. “Pretty pussy,” he cooed. Feeling delightfully spoiled. He licked and nipped his way back down to her channel, darting his tongue in to taste their combined essences. All was as it should be, their flavors mixed together.

He continued lower, to the tight bud of her anus, slowly licking his tongue around her second opening.

“Spike, no!” Buffy barked. He didn’t stop, continuing to gently rim her. Her muscles tensed and she sat up partway. “Stop,” she pleaded.  

He paused for a second, waiting to see his she’d used the safe word, but when she didn’t, he put a hand on her stomach and pushed her back flat. “Just getting you ready is all,” he said. She trembled.

“I don’t know if I…it’s too weird.”

He ignored her and continued to run his tongue around and softly probe her anus. She shifted uncomfortably, her thighs tense. He trailed his fingers over her pussy before dipping a finger into her channel. She was delightfully wet. For all her discomfort, she liked him pushing her limits. He moved his finger to her clit, rubbing circles over it.

“You should really stop. I don’t know if I’m okay with this.” Her voice was hesitant. It sounded like she was saying what she thought she should.

“No,” he stated firmly and she breathed out what sounded like a sigh of relief. A few minutes later her muscles loosened. He stopped teasing her with his tongue and brought himself back to his knees. Deftly, he pushed two fingers into her quim, slicking them with her cream as he slid them in and out. Her greedy little puss was clamping down around them something fierce and his neglected prick pulsed with desire. Christ, he wanted to fuck her like a jackhammer again.

It took every ounce of self-control he had to pull his fingers from her channel and drop them down to start pushing into her ass.

She was initially relaxed, but he’d barely got to the first knuckle before she tensed and was pushing back against the intrusion. “Stop, I can’t!”

He paused, waiting, but she didn’t use the safe word, so he continued until both fingers were fully inside her ass, despite her resisting him.  Her face was scrunched up and her eyes were flashing. “If you need me to really stop…” he offered.

“I know!” she snapped and he grinned. He resumed petting her clit with one hand and finger-fucking her ass with the other. Ever so slowly he scissored out his fingers, getting her ready for his cock. She was still fighting him, her whole body quivering with tension, but he didn’t mind. He wanted her to surrender when his prick was inside her.

Eventually a small shudder passed through her and he knew she was getting close to orgasm despite herself, so he removed his hands from her. She whimpered loudly and wiggled her hips.

“Lie down and be still,” he told her, which she did with a defiant huff. It made his toes curl. She was so close to giving in, to submitting. Seeing her resist her own desire to do so was thrilling.

Spike grabbed the lotion bottle he’d had in his duster pocket and squeezed it onto his palm.

“Is that my after-sun lotion?” Buffy asked, nose twitching. The stuff smelled faintly of coconuts.

“Yeah, stole it because I figured it’d work to fuck you up the ass with.”

“Oh. That’s thoughtful, I guess.”

He hummed an agreement as he swiped the lotion over his prick and then squeezed more out onto her anus. The coconut smell of the stuff got stronger. Pina coladas were going to have a whole other connotation after this.

Watching her face, he positioned the head of his cock against her ass. Excitement was bursting inside him like Champagne bubbles. She belonged to him in this instant and no one else. He pushed forward, breaching the tight ring of muscle of her backdoor, making her stiffen and hiss.

“Stop,” she gasped, her fingers were clenched tight as she fought the rope around her wrists. “I can’t. It’s too much.”

Spike growled. “You’ll take my cock in your ass, you’ll like it, and you’ll get off on it.”

“No, you’re too big, it hurts.”

“You like it.” He pushed deeper into her, even as her anus clamped like a vise around him. She bucked and tried to wiggle away, forcing him to pin her hips with a hand. He surged forward, burying himself to the root in her ass.

Buffy froze, her eyes wide and her mouth a round ‘O’ of shock.

He pulled back slightly and pushed back in, grunting. She was blasted tight.

“Spike?” she asked, voice quavering. Her brows were drawn together and she looked puzzled.

“It’s all right, kitten. You can enjoy it. And with Bitch…it’s alright to like the pain.”

She frowned.

He continued to shallowly thrust, curbing his own desire to wildly slam into her. “Just relax, luv.”

“You’ll take care of me?”

“Forever.”

The lines on her face smoothed out and then he could feel it: she handed over control. Her submission rolled through his body and his demon rushed to the fore, his fangs dropping as every part of him crowed in joy. She was his. His hips sped up and Buffy moaned.

“So good…” Her eyes were glazed over. “Keep me safe, Spike…need you…your girl…ever…”

He shifted his weight to one hand and brought the other to her face to cup her cheek. “I’ve got you.” She nuzzled against his palm, shifting to her demon face. The surge of warmth in his chest was almost more than he could handle, especially when it was underscored with the indescribable pleasure of being deep inside her body. He stroked sharply into her. “Can you feel me, B? Can you feel me inside you?”

“Yes, oh…Spike…yours…I love you! I love you so much!” With a snarl, she broke the ropes holding her wrists and sank her claws into his shoulder and her fangs into his neck.

He bellowed as his control snapped. She loved him, she loved him, she loved him…

His hand snaked between their bodies as he fucked her ass hard and fast. Buffy was moaning against his neck as she drank. He rubbed furiously at her clit and was relieved when her thighs started to tremble.

She came with a wail, her body jolting like an electric current was passing through it. Her pleasure went on and on, the ring of her anus contracting with the pulses of her sex from the orgasm. At last, it left her and she slumped against the floor with his blood smeared on her lips. She was purring loudly.

The sight of her satisfied, fed, happy, and completely trusting in him…something deep inside him clicked. He needed this woman with every fiber of his being. She was his world.

Spike thrust raggedly as his head spun.  This was everything, all he’d ever wanted, longed for.  His Buffy.

His sac drew up and his stomach tightened. For an endless second he teetered on the edge, and then he fell headlong into bliss. His mind whited out and he was roaring Buffy’s name as he pumped his load into her ass. Finally, he collapsed on top of her. It took him a second to realize he was muttering “I love you,” over and over.

Buffy’s eyes were huge and she was shaking.

Christ, she was crashing and it was his job to make sure she was alright. He managed to shut his mouth and stood, quickly putting his clothes, boots, and duster on. He helped her tug the pillow out from under her and tossed it in the open sarcophagus before closing the lid. She stood, barely, clinging to his arm. He got her clothes on her and after slipping her shoes on her feet he shook out the quilt and wrapped it around her. He swept her into his arms, cradling her tight against his chest.  

“Where are we going?” she asked as he nabbed the bag with the blood Giles had brought.

“To your mum’s place, to get you a shower like you wanted. Hopefully she’ll let us crash until I can be sure Angel isn’t going to be leading the soldiers to us.”

“Oh, okay.” There was a pause and her face crumpled and she started sobbing.

He made soothing noises as he carried her out of the crypt. The moon hung bright in the sky and a quick scan let him know they were alone. Buffy was still crying. She needed to sleep. Buffy was coming down hard. And god, they had to talk. She’d been so open with him and of course she’d love him in those moments but then, like an idiot, his mind had seized on that and his heart had screamed that he had already fallen for her. He loved her so much it was almost unbelievable, but she was so new and had been so hurt by her Sire…it all might be more than she’d be ready for.

But now the words were out there and ready or not, they were jumping into the deep end.

They’d have to figure it out, but after she recovered, and maybe made peace with her mum.

The walk went quickly and before he knew it, her house loomed dark and imposing before him. Buffy was still sniffling against his shoulder. It occurred to Spike that he had an invite to the house and she didn’t. Ironic, that. He hoped Joyce was home to ask her in or this was going to be a short visit.

With a quick kiss to her lips for luck, he trudged up the steps and knocked on the door.


	12. Are You a Camera?

Buffy was very nearly asleep in Spike’s arms. She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d turned into a sprinkler, but Spike had been soothing her with words and touches as he carried her. Some of the tears might have been over Angel being a poophead. Bitch snorted.  _You’re a vampire._  Oh, fine. Some of them might have been over Angel being a fucking dickhead.  _Better._  But most of her crying seemed to have to do with the moment all her walls had come tumbling down. Her, well, not her soul, but all that she was had been stripped bare and offered up to the man who  was currently humming off-key to her.

It’d been one of the most terrifying moments of her existence. She’d handed everything over to him, trusting him to understand what she needed, care that she needed it, and keep her safe in the process. Spike had caught her and been all that and more. She’d never felt less alone.

The ‘I love you’ popping out had been a surprise. Not the loving him part, she’d known that, just that the words had come out with no conscious thought on her part.

Fresh tears washed down her face as the emotion rolled through her.

She loved Spike so much. It was a bright, glowing spot that filled up the emptiness in her chest that the loss of a beating heart had left her with. It pulsed with a warm rhythm and she was almost surprised it wasn’t shining through her skin in a way that would make astronauts on the space station think they were being signaled. It made her feelings for Angel, which she thought had been real, true, forever love, look tawdry and silly in comparison. Gaudy costume jewelry to the precious, perfect gem that was her love for Spike. A diamond wasn’t right…maybe a blood-red ruby.

She wanted to ask him if he’d meant it, when he’d said he loved her back, but didn’t quite know how. What if he blew her off? Guys supposedly said all kinds of things when they were screwing you, what if it’d just been some reaction to her saying it while they’d been boinking? Would it be better for her to know that…Bitch’s growl echoed around the inside of her skull.  _He loves us!_

But– Buffy started to mentally argue.

Bitch was having none of it.  _He loves us._  There was an instant replay in her mind of image after image of Spike tenderly looking at her or touching her sweetly. Bitch added in a soundtrack of him promising Buffy that he’d care for her and be with her forever.

Buffy gave in. Okay, yeah, Spike loves us. Bitch was smug.

Spike paused and Buffy realized that they’d already reached her house. He gave her a quick kiss and walked up the steps of the porch to bang loudly on the front door.

A few moments later her mom, dressed in a worn blue robe over a pink nightgown, opened the door. “Is everything okay?” she asked, twisting her hands together.

“We need a place to stay for a few,” Spike said. “Buffy’s Sire showed up where we were hiding and the git might rat us out to his new soldier pals.”

“Oh, um. Alright. I could make some cocoa.” Her mother stepped back, holding the door open, but Spike didn’t move.

“You’re going to have to invite her in,” he said quietly. Buffy’s stomach twisted. It was her house. She hadn’t even thought about…Spike’s hand ran over her hair. “No worries, luv,” he muttered to her. “It’s just how it is.”

Joyce took a deep breath. “Spike, Buffy, won’t you please come in.”

Spike carried Buffy over the doorsill with a dramatic flourish that made her smile. Her mom closed and locked the door and led the way to the kitchen where she immediately began to rummage in the cabinets. Setting Buffy down on her feet, Spike pulled the quilt tighter around her. She was wearing her now slightly-grubby black blouse and jeans, sans underwear since Spike had dressed her, and was feeling exposed. “I’m just going to go check that Buffy’s room is sun proof. I’ll be back in a mo’.” He disappeared and Buffy looked around her very familiar kitchen. She didn’t really feel that different from the last time she’d stood there. Though she hadn’t been dead, Bitch hadn’t been a part of her, and vampire come had certainly not been uncomfortably dribbling down her thighs.

“So,” her mom started. “Your guy, um, Spike…he seems nice.”

Buffy blinked. “I guess? He is to me, anyway.”

“That’s good. Mr. Giles said Spike’s from London?”

“Ah, yes?”

“Do you think he’ll take you home to meet his family?”

The question threw her for a minute. “Mom…Spike was turned, er, made a vampire in 1880. I don’t think there’s any family to go visit anymore. It’d be cool to see England, though.”

“That’s too bad.” Her mom frowned as she stirred milk in a pan on the stove. Three mugs, filled with hot chocolate mix, sat waiting on the counter. Buffy felt like she didn’t know what to do with herself.

“I’m kind of his family now,” Buffy said, toying with the hem of the quilt.

“That makes us all family, right?”

She hadn’t considered that. “Sort of? Has Giles been explaining the whole vampire thing to you at all?”

“Mr. Giles has done an admirable job, though he admits that in your case things aren’t the same as usual.”

“True.” She looked at the floor. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean for this to happen and it’s all way beyond my control.” A strong arm wrapped around her.

“It’s okay, luv, you don’t have to have all the answers yet.”

“Spike,” Joyce said. “Would you care to have some hot chocolate with us?”

He lit up. “Do you have any of those little marshmallows?”

“I think so. You two have a seat at the table and I’ll be right there.”

Spike put his hand on the small of Buffy’s back and guided her to the dining room where he pulled out a chair for her before sitting beside her. He looked nervous.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. It’s just odd, this. I’ve already bollixed up making a good impression on your mum a few times over, and I’m probably not going to help my case much now either. It’s bloody hard to think with you sitting there with your just fucked hair and smelling like heaven.”

She snorted and wiggled in her chair. “Mostly I smell like you. Gravity is winning.”

He smirked. “I know.”

Buffy wrinkled her nose. That was either sexy or disgusting. She was saved from having to decide by her mom arriving and setting down three cups of hot chocolate along with a bag of mini-marshmallows. Spike slid a mug in front of her and then himself, dumping a handful of marshmallows in his. “Ta, Joyce,” he said, taking a large sip.

“You’re welcome.” Joyce took a drink of her own, her expression slightly puzzled, as if she couldn’t quite figure out how she’d ended up sitting at a table with her vampire daughter and her vampire daughter’s boyfriend while drinking cocoa.

Buffy stared at her own mug. She started to reach for it, but then dropped her hand to her lap.

“It won’t bite,” Spike said with a smile.

“I haven’t had any human food yet, is it going to taste weird?”

Joyce paused with her mug halfway to her mouth, looking horrified.

Spike shook his head. “No kitten, it’s still going to taste like chocolate. And your mum brought the primo stuff. Your sense of smell is able to make distinctions like that, so you’ll find yourself a lot pickier than you used to be.”

“Um, is it going to come out, uh, later?”

Spike’s eyebrow shot up. “Come out?”

“Like, y’know–“ She gestured vaguely to her lower half.

Spike’s eyebrow went higher, but then he snorted with laughter. “No, no. You’re done with that rigmarole. I don’t know what happens to it, exactly, but I think the demon burns it up.”

That was a relief. She looked at her cup again.

“Don’t believe me?” he asked teasingly.

“No, it’s just…are you sure you won’t be mad at me?”

Spike squeezed her knee under the table and she looked into his face. “It’s chocolate, pet, not blood. Bit of a difference, eh? Though if I figure out a way for you suck on me and get cocoa, you’ll be the first to know.”

Buffy giggled, but it died as the expression on Spike’s face became alarmed. His eyes darted to the side and then back to her. He swallowed hard.

“What?” she mouthed.

“Mum,” he whispered. Oh, drat. Joyce was blushing furiously and looking at the corner of the table.

Buffy picked up her mug. “Thanks for making this,” she said to her mother and took a drink. It went down without a problem and it tasted freaking delicious. Her eyes got large. She could pick out the sweetness of the sugar from the bitter of the chocolate and the fattiness of the milk. It was a cocoa symphony. Bitch grumbled something about it not being as yummy as Spike, which Buffy agreed with, but it was pretty darn good. “I have to get my hands on some Ben & Jerry’s Mint Chocolate Cookie. I bet it’d be phenomenal.”

“That your favorite?” Spike asked. His eyelids drifted to half-mast as he watched her swallow

“Mint chocolate’s been her favorite since she was little,” Joyce said. “A minute ago,” she rushed on. “I was telling Buffy the Mr. Giles has been educating me on vampires and how Buffy is quite different from the norm. Do you agree?”

“Buffy has always been special, but, yes, she is not a normal fledgling vampire. Though she’d know that as well as anybody.” Spike squeezed her knee again.

“I hadn’t really thought to compare myself to what I saw…in my line of work.” Buffy bit her lip, thinking back on the hundreds of newly risen vamps she’d staked. “So many of them seemed angry.” Her brow furrowed. “Were you like that?” she asked Spike.

He nodded. “I was brassed off at everything and everyone. I didn’t even have a reason I could name. I just wanted the world to pay for wronging me. It took decades for that not to define me.” He tilted his head. “But you haven’t been, have you?”

“At first I was. When I was punching my way out of my coffin.”

Joyce made a strangled noise and Buffy winced.

“Sorry, Mom, but it was a thing that happened. Anyway, I was mad at Angel. I wanted to shred him and sort of watch the world burn, because if my life was over…” She trailed off and ran a finger around the lip of her mug. “But Spike was there, and nothing else mattered after that. B–uh, my demon, she’s sort of like a fat, furry cat in a beam of sunlight, all happy and warm.”

Spike’s brows were drawn together. “Yeah…it’s like that.” He cupped her cheek. “I feel so at peace, as if I’ve finally found something that I’d been missing my entire life.” He kissed her, soft and tender, and she relaxed completely. She’d never felt so loved in her life.  _See?_  Bitch said haughtily.

Joyce cleared her throat and reluctantly, Buffy sat back. “So what happens now?” her mom asked.

Buffy quirked her lips. “I was hoping to take a shower?”

Spike tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think your mum means more than tonight, luv. And the answer is: we don’t know quite yet. Got a few problems to solve, like the sodding soldiers that did a catch and release on Angel. I’m surprised they didn’t clip a number to his ear to go along with his fancy new shock collar.”

“What would they do if they caught Buffy?” her mom asked.

Spike spread his hands out on the table. “Nothing good.”  There was a pause. “Look, I’m going to go get the shower going. Fog up the mirror so it’ll be less of a problem. I’m come get you when it’s ready. Thank you again for the cocoa, Joyce.” Spike stood and put his hand on Buffy’s shoulder before trudging off and back up the stairs.

“You’re going to shower together?” her mom said dryly.

“Of course, there’s that big mirror in the bathroom and the no reflection thing still makes me feel all wiggy…” Buffy trailed off. “Uh, that’s not the part you’re worried about, is it?”

Joyce sighed. “Mr. Giles said I shouldn’t be upset about the fact you’ve become some kind of nymphomaniac, and Spike is handsome enough, but all I can see is my little girl trailing around after a much older man and being a slave to her hormones.”

 _Hey!_  Bitch fumed.

“Hey!” Buffy said. “Spike’s really handsome…and that wasn’t the point you were making. It’s kind of hard to explain and I’m not sure I, or Spike, or anyone, really knows what’s going on. I just…I have to have him. I love him.” She was powerless to stop the shift as her fangs descended. “He’s mine!” Trembling, she drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, hiding her face in the crook of one elbow.

There was the sound of a chair scraping back and, in the next moment, her mother was beside her with a hand on her back. Her mom’s touch nearly burned it was so warm. “Buffy–“

“Buffy died.”

Joyce’s hand shook, but then began rubbing Buffy’s back. “How did she die?”

“She was stupid. Even though she was a Slayer, she thought she loved a vampire. It was just stupid puppy love, but she didn’t know that. She believed he was all special and noble because he has a soul. Buffy was doing her homework at this vampire’s house and she cut her finger on the book she was reading. It stung and bled a bunch. The next thing she knew, the vampire was holding her down and biting her. He drained her. He freaked out and made her drink his blood. Then she was dead.”

“My poor baby,” Joyce said, voice sad. “If Buffy died…then who am I talking to now?”

“B, call me B. Buffy is still a part of me, but there’s a demon in here too. She’s named Bitch, so together, we’re just B.”

“Bitch?”

“Spike thinks it’s really funny. Spike’s his demon’s name, by the way. When he was alive he was William.”

“That all sounds complicated, but B, I’m glad you’re here and that you’re okay. Will you look at me?”

Buffy turned her head so her cheek was resting on her knee. Her mother’s face was pale and drawn, but she was trying to smile.

“Oh, honey, I know I don’t understand. Mr. Giles explained you’re not eating people, so that’s good.”

Buffy made a face as Bitch let her disgust be known. “I drink from Spike, period. Everyone else sounds icky.”

“And he’s not drinking from humans either, right?”

“Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

Her mom laughed.

“It’s not that funny,” Buffy grumbled. “It’d kill me to see his lips on someone else.”

“I don’t think you have to worry, he seems pretty devoted.”

Joyce stood and gently tugged on Buffy’s arm. Buffy rose to her feet, the quilt from the crypt still wrapped around her.  Her mom enveloped her in a hug. “B, I love you. You’re still my baby.”

Buffy laid her head against her mom’s shoulder. “Thank you,” Buffy whispered. Her mom held her tight and placed a hand on her head, humming an old lullaby and rocking slightly side to side. Buffy’s demon face melted away. Cuddled against her mother’s shoulder she really did feel dead, even as she loved that her mother was accepting what Buffy had become.

“I’ll take care of her.” Spike’s voice was a deep rumble. “You don’t have to worry, Joyce. I’ll see her right.”

Joyce’s arms tightened. “I know.” Her voice was choked. “It’s still hard to let her go. I thought we had a few more years left.” Joyce unwound her arms from around Buffy. With a little sob, her mom put her hands on Buffy’s shoulders and gently pushed her back. “You’ll always have a home here, B, if you need it, and a mother that loves you. Now you better go with your guy…and try not to be too loud.” Joyce brushed Buffy’s hair away from her face. “I’m proud of you B. No matter what, you always shine.”

Buffy lowered her eyes. “Thanks, Mom.” She turned and Spike held out his hand to her, which she took without hesitation. His duster had disappeared and his borrowed dark blue shirt was untucked.

“Goodnight, Joyce,” Spike said over his shoulder as he tugged Buffy up the stairs to the steam filled bathroom. The mirror was clouded over– _stupid not a place_ , Bitch seethed–much to Buffy’s relief.  Spike unwrapped the quilt from around her and dropped it on the floor. He stripped her clothes off and then his. He pulled back the shower curtain and gave her his hand for support as she got in. The water felt deliciously warm and she moaned. “Enjoying yourself, kitten?”

“Oh, yes…” She paused. “Why is that? I always thought vampires didn’t care about temperature?”

Spike looked heavenward. “Far as I can tell, the pain receptors that humans have that are related to cold, the ones that make it uncomfortable and lead to shivering, don’t function in vamps. So it’s not a problem to be out in the chill without a jumper, but it doesn’t mean you can’t tell it’s cold. And all the happy, pleasure sensors for warmth still work, and the pain receptors for things being too hot. It’s not like you can stick your hand in boiling water.”

“There go all my weekend plans.”

Spike chuckled. “Whatever will you do instead?”

“File my nails.”

“Didn’t even hesitate on that one.”

Buffy shrugged. “What else would I do?”

“I can think of a few things, but by all means, file your nails instead.”

“You’re so understanding.” Buffy batted her eyelashes, but Bitch was panicking.  _Spike_ , she screeched.  _You’re going to do Spike!_  Buffy slapped her hand over her mouth as she started giggling. Spike raised an eyebrow. “Bitch doesn’t get sarcasm. She’s freaking out at me and telling me, very firmly, that I need to be getting horizontal with you.”

“Smart one, isn’t she?” Spike wrapped an arm around Buffy and she leaned against his chest. “No worries, Bitch, there won’t be a lack of love making.”

Buffy sighed in relief as Bitch settled down, comforted by his words. ‘Love making’ sounded wonderful. Warmed by the water and feeling secure in her boyfriend’s arms, Buffy’s eyelids drooped. “I’m kind of sleepy.” She yawned.

“It’s been a long night, pet. Let’s get cleaned up and in bed.” He grabbed her shampoo off the plastic shower shelf and flipped the top open, releasing the vanilla scent into the warm room. Buffy was assaulted by memories of the last time she’d been standing in the exact same place. It’d been morning and she’d been getting ready for school…

“Buffy!” Spike’s voice broke through the mental swirl. “Where’d you go, luv?”

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his shoulder. “I was remembering the last time I took a shower. Before I died. Before Bitch.”

“Before me,” Spike added. He backed up, pulling her out from under the cascading water, and began to work the shampoo into her hair.

“Yes.” Buffy shuddered. Who had that girl been that hadn’t been in love with Spike? “I don’t think I know her anymore, the girl who bought that shampoo at the store.”

“Nah. She’s still here.” Spike’s hands paused where they were buried in her hair. “I love her, and I love Bitch, and both of them mixed together.”

Happiness swelled inside her and her fangs emerged as she started purring. “That’s good, because all of those parts love you, too.”

Spike let out a huge breath that sounded very relieved. “You’re amazing,” he said, his demon face rising to the surface. He finished sudsing her hair, but didn’t push her back under the water. Chest reverberating with his own loud purr, he pressed his cheek to hers and then her jaw, before snuggling his nose against her throat. He continued down, rubbing his face over her shoulders and breasts. It wasn’t sexual, he wasn’t hard, it felt…loving. He was simply enjoying her.

Spike knelt and paused for a long moment with his ear against her belly, then he briefly nuzzled her public hair, and stroked his face down her legs until he was bowing at her feet, which he placed kissed on top of. “Turn around,” he said hoarsely, and she complied. He worked his way up over her calves and thighs and spent a long time cuddling her rear. She couldn’t help but think that, last shower, she really wouldn’t have been okay with anyone, but especially Spike, running his nose up and down the crack of her ass.

Spike stood, dragging his face up her spine, and finally rested his cheek against the back of her head. “You’re giggling again.”

“That girl I mentioned a moment ago? I was just imaging if someone had surprised her when she stepped out of the shower and told her the next time she used it that she’d be with Spike, love him, and let him stick his face in her hiney, and, well…”

“I guessing the person doing the telling would have had a stake in their eye.”

“Exactly.” She turned around and stepped back, letting the water rinse away the shampoo. Spike was washing his own hair, a crooked smile on his face. She couldn’t stand even the tiny bit of space between them and her purring resumed and got louder as she molded herself his form, her face against his throat. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, dropping one hand down to settle proprietarily on his butt. “But now that I have you…”

“I won’t ever leave you, not of my own free will.” He held her tight. “Please…” His voice sounded ragged. “Stay with me. Be my girl.” She got the feeling there was a whole can of worms worth of emotions behind those simple words.

“I’m yours,” she said, and Spike’s head bowed until he could kiss her shoulder. His lips were followed by his fangs and he bit deeply, anchoring himself to her. Gently, she tugged him back until the water was running over them both. They stood there for a long time, and Buffy hoped that maybe some of their pasts were washed down the drain along with the dirt and soap.

When she yawned again, Spike straightened up. “Time for sleeps, kitten.”

“Okay.” She was far too tired to protest.

He lifted her over the edge of the tub and set her down on the bathmat. He grabbed a towel and dried first her and then himself. They both looked at the pile of dirty clothes.

“We’ll deal with them tomorrow,” Spike finally said, and Buffy nodded. He led her to her bedroom, shut the door behind her, and pulled back the comforter and sheets. She lay down and scooted over as Spike followed. He spooned against her back and wrapped his arm around her.

“Remind me to call Giles in the morning…evening… whatever, and tell him he’s dumb for bringing Angel over,” she said as she fought another yawn.

“Only if I can listen in on that chat.”

Buffy looked over her shoulder at Spike, who was smirking. “Do you promise to behave?” she asked.

He pinched her ass, making her yip. “Never.”


	13. Was That an Earthquake?

It was morning, the regular sun-up kind, not the sort where she got up. Buffy knew she couldn’t have been asleep very long, and, boy, did it feel wrong to be awake. Bitch was complaining a mile a minute. Sighing, Buffy stretched a little. The covers had disappeared, but Spike had rolled on top of her at some point. She was on her back and he was covering her, one leg between hers, and his head on the pillow beside her, his nose against her ear. It was comforting and she felt safe and secure. He was kind of heavy, but since she didn’t need to breathe it wasn’t a hardship.

She stretched out her toes as she brought a hand up to Spike’s back. Running her palm down that smooth surface was a simple pleasure. She left her hand resting on his ass, giddy with thinking about how that piece of real estate belonged to her. Bitch quit grumping long enough to enthusiastically agree. Stretching out her fingers, Buffy took a firmer grip on his behind.

Spike’s brows drew together and he mumbled ,“Buffy,” as his hips surged forward once before he sagged, still fast asleep, against her again. She closed her eyes, the pull of sleep tugging at her.

There was the sound of someone politely clearing their throat.

Startled, Buffy snapped out of her drowsy state. Her fangs descended and she glared around Spike’s shoulder at whoever would dare interrupt her rest.

The bedroom door was cracked open and it took her a moment to recognize her mom. Bitch refused to yield, still unhappy at being disturbed, and Buffy jerked her chin at her mom, wanting her to get on with whatever it was she felt she needed to bug Buffy for.

“I, um…” Joyce seemed flustered. Her eyes darted to where Buffy’s claws were gripping Spike’s rear, before determinedly staring up at the ceiling. Buffy giggled. Her mom had totally checked out his ass. Bitch finally figured out there was no threat and receded, still very put out at being awake during daylight. “Buffy,” Joyce said, voice only a little shaky. “I wanted to let you know I was off to the gallery. There’s fresh blood in the fridge. I’m going to stop by Mr. Giles’ place after work, then I believe he wants to see you, but we’ll call before coming over, alright?”  

“Sure,” Buffy said. “Calling is good.”

“Okay, honey, have a good day.” Her mom’s wide-eyed gaze dropped from the ceiling to meet Buffy’s. “Can I say that? Or is it good night?”

Buffy wiggled under her Spike-blanket. “It’ll be good no matter what you call it.”

Her mom blushed bright red. “Good sleep!” she said hastily and clicked the door shut.

Buffy snorted. Really, what had her mom expected, sticking her head in here? Let sleeping vampires lie. She could have just left a note, or something. Closing her eyes, Buffy snuggled her face against Spike’s shoulder and inhaled his comforting scent. It lulled her as she gave into Bitch’s demand for slumber.

****

It was much later, though still daylight, when she woke again, curled on her side.

“B,” Spike said, nuzzling against her ear. “Wake up, B.” He was lying on his side behind her, one arm draped over her.  

“Ugh,” she grunted. “It’s still daylight.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you bothering me?”

He flexed his hips and ground the hard line of his cock against her ass.

Heat pooled in her belly, but she bit her lip to keep from moaning. “And why’s that my problem? Can’t you take care of it yourself?”

Spike gave an exasperated huff. “I know you don’t mean that.”

“I’m still sleepy,” she said and gave an exaggerated yawn. Bitch was nonplussed.  _Spike_ , she insisted.  _Right now._

I’m just teasing, Buffy reassured her demon, who wasn’t at all reassured and didn’t like this teasing business.

Spike prodded her with his erection. “Aren’t you hungry, luv?”

“Sleepy,” she insisted, though her stomach rumbled. She was awfully empty.

Spike paused, then rolled away from her onto his back. “Fine,” he said, though his tone was light. He sounded like he really wasn’t worried. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just be over here tossing off. You get some more kip.” There was the sound of him spitting in his palm and he groaned a second later.

Buffy’s eyes flew open. Hey! He was really…

Bitch was pouting.  _See! Now we’re not getting fed or getting off_.

The bed was moving slightly and she could hear the slide of his hand over his cock.

For some reason she couldn’t quite figure out, it made her mad he hadn’t tried harder to seduce her. With an angry growl, she vamped out, rolling over and onto her knees, meaning to snap something at him, but she froze, transfixed at the sight of him pleasuring himself. Even Bitch went completely silent.

He was stretched out on his back, one hand behind his head as the other swept up and down his shaft.

“Thought you were tired,” he drawled, his gaze fixing on her breasts. She rolled her tongue over the tips of her fangs as she watched his fist tighten around his dick. A few drops of fluid beaded on the tip and flowed down the sides. The scent of him, male and aroused, was shorting out her brain.

She wanted.

On her hands and knees, she crawled until she was beside him. Lowering her face to his stomach she darted out her tongue and licked a path down his body towards his groin. He didn’t stop jerking himself until she put her hand over his and pulled it away. Growling, she pinned his wrist to the bed. He answered with a snarl of his own, and she glanced up to find his eyes demon-yellow and unblinking as he watched her. He left his arm where she put it when she let go.

Buffy braced her hands on either side of Spike’s narrow hips and pressed a kiss to the head of his cock. He moaned and his dick jerked. Pleased, she swirled her tongue around the tip, savoring his taste, before tracing a line down the underside of his shaft. He was rock hard with need, his length taut as a bow string.

Hers, all hers.

Delicately, she flicked her tongue over his balls, loving how he whimpered and clutched at the sheets. Her eyes locked onto where his thigh and hip met. There was blood there, Bitch knew just where to bite. With no warning, she lunged forward and struck, her fangs sinking in deep. The taste exploded across her tongue, rich and sinful.

Spike yelled something garbled and his hands clutched her hair as his hips surged off the bed. His cock was pressed tight against the front of her throat. She swallowed and his dick jerked. Another mouthful and another swallow and he came, his whole body shuddering as he roared. He shot his load over her chest and his belly, the scent driving her wild.

Buffy feasted with abandon and Spike writhed beneath her. His cock hardened again as soon as it stopped spasming. He was halfway sitting up, babbling nonsense and flexing his hips so his hard-on was sliding against her throat. She swallowed a few more times and he came again, his voice hoarse as he barked her name. A second round of come joined the first, and when he was at last spent, Buffy released her bite and raised her eyes to his.

He looked like he’d been through a tornado. His hair was sticking up in all different directions, he was panting, and had a crazed look on his face.

She shook off her demon features. “You okay?” she asked.

“Uh,” he inelegantly replied and collapsed to lay flat on his back, chest still heaving.

With a shrug, she turned her attention to his abdomen and began to lick the come off.

The phone rang.

Spike didn’t move.

With a sigh, Buffy straightened up. She straddled his chest and answered the stupid phone that wouldn’t stop ringing. “What?”

“Hello, Buffy?” It was Giles.

“Yes?”

“You mother is here and after a bit of dinner­—she’s making meatloaf and mashed potatoes for the scoobies and myself—we’d like to come over. Willow has found some things that you and Spike should know.”

“How long from now?” She was wound tight and needed release, which was going to happen regardless, but she’d try to be quieter if her friends and mother were going to be downstairs.

“Hour and a half?” Giles asked.

“That should be cool. Let me—”

“Is that your Watcher?” Spike asked, lifting his head. Buffy nodded and he held out his hand.

“Hang on,” she told Giles and handed the phone over.

Spike laid his head down so he was looking at the ceiling again, but one of his hands snaked its way up her thigh to pet her sex. She rolled her hips, encouraging his attentions.

“Listen, you twit,” Spike said into the phone. “Don’t bring sodding Angel or the other Slayer along with you…I don’t give a blasted rat’s ass what you think, you nearly killed the both of us dragging the wanker over to where we live without so much as a by your leave…No, I am not fucking exaggerating.”

Spike’s fingers became violent. He was furious. He shoved two of them inside her, fucking her roughly. Bitch was thrilled and Buffy found she really didn’t mind, either. She liked him like this, dark and powerful. Vampiric. She moaned and undulated.

Spike growled into the receiver. “Angel’s got some mental leash on him that the soldier boys gave him. He could have led them right to Buffy…Yeah, I imagine he didn’t pass on that little tidbit. Not to mention, as Buffy’s Sire, he threw her head for a loop. Tried to take her from me, then tried to turn her against me…You didn’t bleeding believe we were going to sit down for tea and a nice chat, did you? Buffy’s so new it’s hard for her to fight his pull over her. Angel tried to break her and afterwards I was the one who helped her figure out she was still in one piece.…Sorry isn’t going to cut it, mate. And I don’t want that Faith bird anywhere near us, either.”

At the mention of Faith’s name, Buffy scowled. She clamped her inner muscles hard around his fingers. She didn’t want him thinking about Faith.

Spike’s eyes rolled up. “Fuck,” he hissed. “What?” he said into the phone. “Oh, not you, focused on something else for a tic… As a new vampire, Buffy’s going to feel the urge to fight the Slayer, ‘specially because my girl’s got it in her head that I’ve got a thing for the bloody chit. So unless you want another dead Slayer, Faith doesn’t belong at this little pow-wow.”

Buffy’s face shifted and she bared her fangs at Spike. There he went again, saying Faith’s name while he was supposed to be pleasuring Buffy.

That was it, she wanted him to herself.

Huffing, she shot to her feet on the bed. His cock was hard again and he looked surprised at her sudden movement. She glared at him as she flicked her hair contemptuously over her shoulder. Before he had a chance to respond, she bolted off the bed and out the bedroom door.

Behind her there was the howl of an angry animal. The phone smashed into the wall.

Bitch was shaking with delight and Buffy was nearly unable to control her surging lust as she bounded down the stairs.

Spike came crashing after her, easily cornering her in the living room. Not that she’d tried very hard to get away.

He looked pissed off. It was wonderful.

Y’know, Buffy mentally told Bitch. This is teasing, too.

 _Yeah_ , Bitch responded.  _But this is awesome teasing that’s going to result in orgasms._

Well…Bitch had a point.

Spike’s top lip was pulled up in a silent snarl and his cock was full and heavy, jutting out from between his thighs and looking as angry as he was.

Buffy felt like she was going to dust from desire.

Spike tried to grab her arms, but when she shied back it proved to be a feint. He swept her feet out from under her, sending her crashing to the ground. His followed her down and his hands closed tightly around her ankles so he could flip her onto her stomach. Instantly, he was between her thighs and ramming his cock to the hilt in her slick pussy.

She had to brace herself as he pounded ruthlessly into her, his claws digging painfully, rapturously, into her hips. Both Spike and she were making inarticulate, inhuman noises as their bodies collided.

With a tortured cry, she came, the bliss a perfect maelstrom of pleasure and pain. She came again and again, until she was shaking and worn out from the being catapulted into ecstasy and tumbling back down. Spike’s hips stuttered and with a final heave he peaked. He held her still as his cock spasmed inside her, coating her channel with his spendings. When he’d finished, he let her slump to the floor and collapsed beside her.

His demon features melted away, leaving him looking pensive with a line between his brows. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Why’d you run, kitten?”

She smiled. “So you’d chase me. Duh.”

Spike’s forehead smoothed out and with a happy cry he gathered her into his arms, raining kisses over her face as a loud purr rumbled his chest. “What a precious girl you are, Buffy. I love you so.”

Her own purr kicked in at his words. “I love you, too.”

They lay there for long minutes and she basked in the warmth of his love, but eventually she remembered everyone was coming over. Darn it. She pushed back her demon and sat up, stretching.

“We have to get dressed, don’t we?” Spike said with a pout.

“Unfortunately.” She reached out and laid a hand on his chest. Clothes sounded terrible. “We need a place, and a long stretch of time, just to be together however we want. No interruptions. No pants.” She sighed with longing. “Just you and me.”

He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. “We’ll get there, luv. I promise. But I don’t think there’s any amount of time that will let me get enough of you.” He sat up. “And, yeah, I want to shag you silly, but I want time to do other things, too. Like watch all your favorite movies with you, take you out dancing until morning’s almost on us and we have to run home, lie with you on the grass and watch the stars wheel across the heavens.”

“I want that too. And you have to play me all your favorite records and take me to the best places in New Orleans to get a drink and listen to a band play.”

“New Orleans?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Or New York or…just somewhere new.”

“I’ll show you the whole world,” he said, standing and helping her to her feet. “Anywhere and everywhere. As long as I’m with you, I’m home.”

She didn’t have an answer, all the emotions inside her were too big for words. Wrapping him in a fierce hug she hoped he got what she was trying to tell him. The way his arms tightened around her made her feel as if he understood her better than she did herself.

It startled her when she figured out that the buoyant feeling that was nearly making her float off the floor was happiness.

****

There was a knock at the door just as they were walking downstairs.

Spike only had the clothes he’d been wearing at the crypt, but Buffy had been treated to having her whole wardrobe at her disposal. She’d started with a set of black lace panties and pushup bra that had required her to fend of Spike’s wandering hands, and then rummaged in her closet looking for something that felt like B would wear it and not pre-vamp, school-girl Buffy. She ended up in a tight black sweater and a pair of blue-jean capris. She’d finished off the look with hoop earrings and strappy, kitten-heeled sandals.

The only problem had been when she’d sat down to do her hair. She’d unthinkingly looked in the mirror and nearly fallen off the vanity seat as she’d backpedaled away from her lack of reflection. Spike had put his hands on her shoulders and quietly asked for the brush. He’d pulled her hair up into a high ponytail and guided her hands over it to make sure she thought it was okay.

With care, he’d applied a little blue eye shadow and black mascara, and Buffy felt confident that she’d gotten her pink lip gloss on just fine, which Spike confirmed. Someday she wouldn’t need to ask for help…not that she wouldn’t. She liked feeling cared for. Just that she wouldn’t need to.

Her friends arriving caused the comfortable, easy going feeling she’d had evaporate. Spike chuckled as she hovered behind him when he opened the door. Her mother entered, smiling at her and blushing faintly as she greeted Spike.

“She saw you naked while you were sleeping,” Buffy whispered in his ear when he turned his head and gave her a puzzled look. He smirked and Joyce flushed brighter.

Giles gave both Spike and her a curt nod as he strode past, Willow, Xander, and Oz trailing after him.

Xander turned back after getting halfway into the living room. He eyed Spike and skirted warily around him until Xander was facing Buffy.

“Hey, Buff,” he said, his eyes dropping to the floor.

“Hey,” she responded.

“I’m sorry,” Xander said, taking a deep breath and looking up at her. It seemed like he was going to say more, but his face crumpled instead.

Slowly, so she didn’t scare him, Buffy opened her arms and wrapped him in a hug. With a strangled noise he hugged her back.

“I just don’t…Jesse…” he choked out.

“I understand,” Buffy said. “I really do. And I didn’t mean to die. It just happened. One minute I was all normal and the next I was drained and turned.” She pushed back from him so she could see his face. He was so sad looking. “And guess what, you were right. Angel is a stupid dead guy.”

Xander tried to smile. “I’m doing my best here to get it. But my friend Buffy died, and this time I couldn’t save her.” Buffy took Xander’s hand in hers and he gripped her fingers with his. “And while I know she’s okay with being dead, she had to go and fall in love with a dead guy that has really bad hair.” He made a face in Spike’s direction.

“Oi! It looks terrific and you bloody well know it.” Spike narrowed his eyes at Xander, but without any real malice as he ran a hand over his slicked back, bleached locks. He’d had to use her mousse and it’d left it wavier than normal.

Buffy leaned in conspiratorially close to Xander.  “If he doesn’t gel it down, it goes all curly. Drives him nuts.”

“Like little orphan Annie curls?” Xander said, a real grin on his face this time.

“Totally,” Buffy confirmed.

Spike looked heavenward. “Yeah, yeah, the sun will bloody well come out tomorrow.”

Xander let out something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh and let go of Buffy’s hand as he went to sit in his usual scoobie meeting place on the couch. He looked relieved.

“Thanks,” Buffy said, bumping her shoulder against Spike’s.

He let out a long-suffering sigh. “I can play nice, for a little while, but I’m going to need my brekkie to be able to put up with these gits.”

“I’ll get it,” she said. Spike nodded and kissed her forehead.

Willow followed Buffy into the kitchen, hugging an ancient looking book to her chest.

Buffy grabbed two cups of blood from the fridge and sniffed them. Once she was sure they were fresh, she placed them in the microwave. “Everything okay?” she asked Willow, who looked confused.

“I just never thought I’d see you being so June Cleaver,” Willow said.

“I swear I won’t start vacuuming with pearls on.” Buffy laughed and Willow smiled. “But it’s the least I can do for him.”

“Do you really bite him, and stuff?”

Buffy figured Willow didn’t want to actually know about ‘and stuff’. “I do. Vampire here, hello. I have to eat somehow and everything else just sounds icky.”

“Well.” Willow pursed her lips. “From where I’m standing, biting Spike and drinking his blood sounds icky.”

“Not for me,” Buffy sighed dreamily. “It’s yummy, better than ice cream.”

“Even mint chocolate chip?”

“Even that.”

Willow’s fingers fidgeted on the book she was holding. “It’s weird, Buffy. We were doing all these things together. Going to school, getting a boyfriend, planning for college…and now you’re experiencing all these things I never will.”

“I sure hope you don’t.” Buffy sighed and leaned against the counter. “I’m okay with it because I don’t have a soul.” Willow flinched, but Buffy had no way to reassure her. “I have a demon. She’s really excited about everything, but especially Spike. She’s really, really into Spike. So am I, for that matter. I can’t imagine how lost and lonely I’d be without him. I know everyone else just sees this evil guy, not the sweet, caring, loving one that I do.”

“He’s a lot more with the bad boy stuff than I ever thought you’d be into.”

Buffy giggled. “Me too, but it’s growing on me. I don’t think I’m his usual type either.” The thought made her stop. Buffy knew she was nothing like Drusilla. Not in looks, temperament, craziness level. What if Spike—

“Uh, hello, Buffy?” Willow looked terrified.

“Yes?” Buffy snapped just as the microwave beeped. Willow recoiled.

“You went all bumpy.”

“Oh!” Buffy set the cups on the counter and her hands went to her face. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I said that stuff about Spike and…and…I sort of freaked and got jealous of who he used to be with.” She forced herself to shift back. “I’m really sorry. I don’t have super great control over the fangs yet, or my emotions for that matter. Anything to do with Spike is off the charts right now. I’m not trying to be freak-girl, er, if that makes any sense. Which it probably doesn’t.”

Willow blew out a breath. “Actually, it sort of does make sense.”

“Really?” Buffy checked the temperature of the blood, wiped her finger on a towel and realized she’d left a stain, then shrugged. It looked a lot like the jam stain next to it.

“Yeah, if what this book says is true, then a lot of stuff that’s going on with you and Spike makes sense. It’s part of what we want to talk about with you tonight.”

Huh. Stuff in a book about her and Spike? Hopefully it wasn’t like the last book that had information about her. “What’s the other part?”

“Some stuff about the mayor and soldiers. Faith knows it better that Giles, but Spike said not to bring her.”

“Her being a Slayer sort of makes me homicidal. Now I get why all those fledges were always rushing me in the graveyard instead of taking off in the other direction. And,” Buffy picked up the cups and her voice dropped to almost nothing. “She’s still an actual Slayer. What if Spike likes her better than me?”

Willow scrunched up her face. “Did you take stupid pills in the last two seconds? Spike doesn’t like anyone better than you. Now hurry up and take your boyfriend his food before he starts to think Xander looks like snack food.”

“He so wouldn’t!” Buffy said as Bitch wailed in alarm. The idea of Spike’s mouth being on Xander sent a wave of anxiety coursing through her. She rushed into the living room, relieved to find Spike sitting by himself in a chair, nowhere near Xander, or Oz, or anyone else for that matter. Her panic subsided and Spike visibly relaxed as she walked towards him. Perching on his lap she handed him a cup of blood, which he eagerly began drinking.

“Thanks, luv,” he said between sips. “Now, what were you lot so sodding desperate to chat about?”

Giles rubbed his temple. “Let’s start with you and Buffy, shall we?”


	14. Do You Have A Map?

“Can you two at least pretend to listen?” The Watcher’s voice was exasperated as it loudly broke into Spike’s consciousness.

Oh, right, he was supposed to be paying attention. Only it was a might bit difficult when Buffy was sitting on him. Spike had finished his blood and placed the empties next to the chair. B had gone from sitting crossways on his legs to straddling, her knees on either side of his and her back to his front. She was lounging back against his shoulder, her lush ass pressed against his prick, which had certainly noticed. Spike had wrapped an arm around her middle and had taken to stroking the long column of her neck with the other.

What a beautiful throat. He’d nearly lost his grip on sanity when she’d been drinking from his femoral artery. It’d been unadulterated bliss. He stroked his fingers over her neck again. And what a delightful little minx she’d been afterward, leading him on a bit of a merry chase. It was like someone had gifted her to him after having sat down and quizzed him in detail about what he’d wanted most in a…girlfriend? Lover? Life companion? Bloody hell, he didn’t have a word that fit her. She was his universe.

He cooed in pleasure as Buffy turned her head so her lips were brushing against the side of his neck.

“Spike! Buffy!” Joyce snapped.

“I’ve got this,” Willow said, standing.

“Hey, Spike?” She waved at him.

“Yes?” he said with a smile. Buffy nuzzled more firmly against his neck and for a moment he thought she might bite. Damn her jeans. He would need to get them off—

“Spike!” Red hollered and he opened his eyes, not remembering having closed them, and narrowed his gaze at her, even letting a little of his demon show. He was with B and didn’t like interruptions.

 _Our girl!_  William added, as delighted with B’s attention as the rest of him.

“I know this is difficult for you to pay attention to and you just want us to go away so you can…do stuff…” Red blushed and her little boyfriend leaned forward to take her hand. “But you’ve got to listen to us first. Buffy is in danger.”

Some of the fog left Spike’s brain. “Danger?”

“Buffy, you have to listen too, because this stuff could dust Spike as well.”

Instantly, Buffy was sitting upright. “What stuff, Willow?”

“The Mayor of Sunnydale is going to do this whole ascension thing he’s been planning for a century and we don’t know if we can stop him and the commando guys are building something really big under Sunnydale University, but we don’t think the Mayor understands they’re hunting demons because they’re apparently paying him off,” Willow said in one breath.

B snorted. “Hunting demons? Really?”

“I need to talk more with Angel,” Giles said. “But he described their temporary base as consisting of holding cells and laboratories for experimentation. Needless to say, a turned Slayer or a vampire of your age, Spike, would be very interesting to them.” Giles sighed. “Angel, did not, however, disclose that they’d experimented on him. I was under the impression they had let him go because of his soul.”

Spike shook his head. “How do you measure a soul? Lot like that aren’t going to be taking a vamp’s word for it that he’s a white hat.”

“Well, yes, when you say it like that.” Giles sounded more than a little annoyed.

“What’s this ascension thingy?” Buffy asked.

“The Mayor turns into some big, evil, world-destroying demon,” Xander said. “You know, the usual.”

The Watcher pulled his glasses off his face. “We’re working on finding ways to stop it, though in the meantime we’re hoping to gather further information on the actions of the soldiers, who are calling themselves the Initiative. Should we be able to prove that they are as…vile, as we suspect, we think we might be able to provoke the Mayor into moving against them.”

“Smart,” B said. “I don’t think a single Slayer, even one with as much help as Faith has, could take them on.” B said the other girl’s name with more than a little venom and Spike bumped his hips up against Buffy, reminding her that she was it for him.

“Let’s do plans later.” Oz broke into the conversation. “Tell them about the book now, before they get all wrapped up in each other again.”

Hey!

Well, the kid had a point. Though it wasn’t Spike’s fault he was holding the most delectable thing in the world. These gits needed to leave.

“The translation on this thing was a bear,” Willow said. “I seriously had to spend some time with—”

“Get on with it,” he growled.

“Okay,” Red squeaked, taking a satisfying step away from him. “Um, the first part talks about vampires who found their mates.”

“A sodding fairy tale,” Spike snapped. “There’ve been no known mated vampire pairs in more than a millennium…” he trailed off, glancing around at all the expectant faces that were staring at B and him. “Wait a bloody moment, you think B and I are mates?” As soon as the word was out of his mouth his toes curled. Oh, fuck, it felt right. His mind fell apart and he smashed his face against the nape of B’s neck with a whimper.

“Uh,” B said. “What are mates?”

The was resigned noise from the Watcher. “Something of a long story and a theory that the council does not ascribe to.”

“I really don’t give a rat’s ass what the Council thinks.” B trembled under Spike’s hands and he wondered if she was having the same bone-deep reaction to the word he was.

“Of course not,” Giles murmured.

“The legend is that vampire-demons,” Red said and Spike put his chin on B’s shoulder, wondering how Willow would explain the concept. “When they come to this dimension to take over a human, because they don’t have a concrete physical form, aren’t like what they are in their place of origin. It’s thought that naturally they’re binary, two individuals that are completely and utterly joined.” She laced her fingers together. “Then a vampire is sired and that binary is ripped apart.” She yanked her hands to the side, separating her fingers.

B gave a startled cry and Spike wrapped his arms tightly around her. She was making little gulping noises like she was trying not to cry.

“Very rarely,” Red continued, “one half of a binary could find it’s other half in this dimension. Mates.” Red curled her fingers into fists and tapped her hands together. “But there’s a problem. The two halves are stuck in their host’s bodies. When you…when you…”

“Shag,” Spike supplied and Willow blushed again.

“When you do that, it makes you feel close to that interconnection you would have shared for unknown millennium in your home dimension. But it’s fleeting, that sense of being linked, but you’ll always feel off without it. Eventually, needing that connection will be all you can think about. Neither of you would eat, or get out of bed. Eventually, you’d both dust.”

They’d fuck themselves to death? There were worse ways to go, he supposed, but he was planning on being with his girl for a good long time. “That book have a fix?”

Willow nodded. “Yes, you have to magical bind yourselves together, make yourselves one again, so you can eventually do other things.” She interlaced her fingers again. “You’ll probably still like, uh, being intimate more than anything else, but you won’t forget the world exists.”

“Why do you think this mate stuff applies to us?” Spike said. “Just because we’re caught up with each other? Maybe we just really like a good fuck.”

Joyce gasped.

“Sorry, Mom,” B said, though she didn’t sound even vaguely apologetic.

Giles yanked his glasses off his face and pulled out a handkerchief to scrub at them. “Be that as it may, the stories Willow translated share a pattern you two fit perfectly.”

“Do tell,” Spike drawled. His hands drifted to Buffy’s hips, which he caressed lovingly. He was rewarded by her wiggling her ass in such a way that left him bloody brassed off that she wasn’t wearing a skirt. He would already be in her if she was, making her moan and scream. His fingers dug into her curves as he ground his cock against her. Christ, he needed her. She arched her back and mewed, her hands reaching back over her head to tangle in his hair.

He pressed his lips to her neck, breathing in her scent. His prick was aching in its fullness, aching for her, begging for her. One of his hands went to the button of her jeans—

Ice cold water poured over his head, making him sputter. B was gasping too, water dripping down her face.

Joyce was standing there, two empty glasses in her hands, and a determined look on her face. “That’s better,” she said, setting the glasses down on the table.

Spike blinked. Damn. Bloody hell. He wiped a hand over his face. Blast, had he been just about to shag his girl in front of her mates and mum? Had she been just about to let him?

Sighing, B stood up and shook the ice out of her hair. She moved a few feet away from him, then a few more, ending up leaning against the wall. He missed her instantly and started to follow her but got as far as standing before collapsed down to sit on the edge of the chair, his elbows on his knees and his hands hanging uselessly in between them. “Best get on with your explanation, Watcher,” he said. There was only so long he could stand not touching her. Spike trained his eyes on the floor. There were ice cubes scattered across the rug.

“Right.” Giles cleared his throat and Joyce resumed her seat. “In times past, vampires would actively search for their mates, sometimes turning entire villages, dusting each new fledge that rose and was not their other half.”

“The book suggests,” Willow cut in, “that the reason new vamps are all majorly pissy is because they’re missing their mates, even if they don’t know it.” Spike creased his brow at that. When he’d been new he’d been angry at the world, it’d felt empty and cruel, well worth his contempt, even with his Sire at his side. His gaze flicked to Buffy and stuck. She shone. He almost envied her for not having to have known that feeling. The emptiness that had persisted no matter how much blood had run down his throat. He’d thought that unfillable hole was simply part of being a vampire, if not the defining characteristic. That always longing for something to fill him up inside was simply part of the deal.

She made him feel so full. Bursting. Fuck, he wanted to fill her…with a huff, he returned his eyes to the floor.

“What about when a vampire does find it’s mate,” Buffy asked softly.

“Well, pretty much what happened with you two. Outside feeding stops, because the mates are too jealous of each other to share, even with their dinner. Regardless of gender, the younger partner only feeds from the older, and that vampire only consumes the blood of animals, preferably drained, or blood willingly given by humans.”

“Willingly given?” Xander squeaked.

Spike looked up at the boy’s alarmed countenance. “You offering?” he asked with a wolfish grin.  Xander shook his head violently.

“Apparently,” Giles said, rubbing his knee. “Mated vampire pairs were sometimes worshiped by humans as a divine aspect of love.” The Watcher fixed Spike with a piercing gaze. “I do not think you should expect anything more than butcher’s blood.”

“Well, damn, hymns of praise might be nice, what do you think, luv?” Spike stretched as he looked over at B. Only she wasn’t giggling. She didn’t appear even faintly amused. B was angry. Uh-oh. What’d he done?

“There’s a ritual.” Willow pulled several sheets of paper out of the book and waved them at the room. “It doesn’t involve any ingredients or candles or anything, just words, gestures, and intent. Easy. Like pie. One you make with the filling from the store and premade crust not, like, pecan, or…”

Spike tuned her out, focusing instead on the storm cloud B’s face had become. She was staring daggers at him. He had no clue what was wrong.

With an abrupt motion, she pushed herself off the wall and strode, tense and seething, to stand in front of him.

“Entire villages?” she spat.

What?

She pointed a finger at Giles. “He said some vampires would spend nearly every waking moment searching for their mate and did you look for me at all?” Her hands went to her hips.

Oh. Spike’s eyes went wide.

“I didn’t know those stories were real!” he croaked. How had he been supposed to understand that she’d been waiting for him? Had he known, he would have moved heaven, earth, and several hell dimensions to reach her.

Buffy’s fangs descended and the other people in the room shifted uncomfortably. “I was stuck, drifting for untold ages!” Her voice had roughened, become more guttural. This was Bitch talking. “I was alone!”

Something broke inside of him. His own demon shoved its way forward. “You know it’s different here! I only knew I was lacking something, not what it was!”

“Whatever, you had your Sire. You loved her, you didn’t give a shit about me!”

He roared, springing to his feet. “Don’t say that! My host wouldn’t have survived without her!” Spike wanted to argue that with himself, but his demon had a point. No matter what, Dru and taking care of her had kept him going. “Had I known…I was screaming for you and no one understood!” He reached for her and she punched him, hard, on the chin, sending him stumbling back.

“How many fledges did you turn?”

Spike rubbed where her blow had landed, then advanced on his mate. She was being bloody unreasonable. Though the thought of her being alone was making him want to rend a hole in reality to be able to go back and somehow fix her pain. “I don’t,” he ground out. He wasn’t explaining in front of her mates why not. “I had reasons.”

“You didn’t want me,” she said, her anger draining away to be replaced with sorrow. She turned her back on him and took one step away, her footstep echoing in the room. One step, two…

No!

Spike launched himself at her, tackling her to the floor. He pinned her, but she didn’t fight back, which terrified him. “I love you,” he whispered urgently in her ear. “I am you. I was empty and my host didn’t understand. We didn’t know to search. William had to have something to cling to. And not once since I was pulled from your embrace and brought to this place have I seen a host worthy of you. Not until this Slayer.”

B heaved under him, trying to turn over, but he wasn’t done.

“What language are they speaking?” Xander asked, voice alarmed.

“You know,” Oz said, sounding wary. “We should probably leave. I have no idea what they’re saying, but I think the demons are in charge and they’re not going to like that we’re here.”

“Ritual’s on the table,” Willow called as people shuffled out the front of the house.  

Spike didn’t care about sodding rituals, or humans, or anything that wasn’t the girl under him.

The door banged shut and the absence of heartbeats was a blessing.

Buffy was still and he risked letting go of one of her arms, meaning to pet her hair. It was a mistake. She braced her palm under her and bucked, sending him crashing to the side. B followed him, trying to pin him with her knees. She aimed a blow for his face, which he blocked.

“Worthy host?” she screamed. “Don’t lie to me. You’ve faced two Slayers. Neither one of them was worth turning?”

He was glad her anger was back, it was easier for him to stomach than her tears.

“No,” he said. “They were good, but they weren’t Buffy. And my host needed to fall for your host. Love is what make him tick. Like me.” Spike found it disconcerting to realize his demon hungered to be love just as much as his human side.

His words brought her up short and her arms fell to her sides. “William likes Buffy?” she asked, sounding completely confused.

“Well, yeah. You’re pretty, smart, loyal…loving. Who wouldn’t love you?”

Her eyes skittered to the side. “Lots of people.”

“Less sure about the other way around. Buffy loved Angel.”

B gave an ugly bark-growl. “Buffy did, but not anymore.” Her head tilted to the side. “He murdered her.” She stroked his face, and he stuck his tongue out to lick her palm, her taste sweet. “Buffy loves you, all of you. Human part too, not just demon to demon. You’re brave, you care, you see her like no one else does.” B’s demon features receded and her eyelashes fluttered as she bowed her head.

Deep inside him, William cried out in joy. He was loved!

His own demon subsided and his human mask slid back into place. Gently, he rolled B over until she was flat on her back under him, her hands lying loosely beside her face. He bent down and kissed her softly and sweetly, and she responded in kind.

“My mate,” he said into her mouth, trying it out. Every fiber of his being vibrated with how right it sounded.

B moaned. “Yes, Spike, yes. My mate.”  Her calling him mate in return sent an even deeper thrill through him. This was what he’d been made for. To be with her. To be hers.

He adjusted his hand on the rug and his finger brushed against one of the spilled ice cubes from earlier. Perfect! He sat back on his knees and helped B pull her shirt off, then removed his own. He tugged her jeans and panties down and off, undid his belt, and stripped of his own pants. Nothing should ever be between them.

Hands soft, he arranged her to his liking, with her legs apart and her arms laying on the floor, her hands over her head.

The way she was eyeing his prick made it difficult for him not to give in and simply shag her, but he wanted to play first, to let her know how special she was. He pinched the ice cube in his fingers, automatically heading towards her belly because that was where Dru…he stopped. Shit. Suddenly he understood B’s jealousy in a way he hadn’t before. He didn’t want the memories in his own head. Memories that weren’t her.

“Spike?” B said, pushing up on her elbows.

“I just got why you were mad at me,” he said, feeling like the biggest git in existence.

B rolled her eyes. “I’m not mad now. Bitch may not be thrilled, but she gets that you didn’t choose to leave her, and that you didn’t choose to wait so long to be with her. It’s not like there was a giant ‘get her here now’ button that you just decided to not push.”

“I don’t like having memories of being with anyone but you.”

“I’m not jumping for joy over it, either, but it’s okay. You got here. I got here. We’re together. That’s all that matters.” She laid back down and stretched. “And we’ll make new memories.”

Spike hung his head. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Duh. Now let’s have some fun.” She took his wrist and guided his hand with the ice to her face. He traced the outline of her lips and the tip of her pink tongue darted out to lap at the cube.

Spike groaned and leaned over to kiss her as he trailed the ice down her neck. He followed the same path with his lips, and B mewled and clutched at his head. The coolness of the ice would make even his mouth seem warm in comparison.

He slid the cube down and outlined the curve of one breast before dragged it up and pressing it to her nipple. She gasped and wiggled, then moaned loudly when he replaced the cube with his mouth, sucking the hard point in deep. God, she tasted good. He continued to suckle at the breast in his mouth as he slowly spiraled the ice cube around the other one, again leaving it on the nipple.

Every little gasp of pleasure she made as he saw to her made his heart sing.

With a final little kiss, he let her nipple go and pulled the ice away from the other as he switched to that one. B made a happy noise in the back of her throat and wiggled delightedly.

If she liked that, she was going to love when he worked his way lower.

Leaving her breasts, he trailed the cube down and around her navel, circling a few times before replacing it with his tongue. Her muscles twitched and she hummed her pleasure.

After a few moments, he rose up and set the cube on her belly, right below her navel, and began to push it down towards her curls.

Only Buffy’s hand covered his, pulled the ice out of his grasp, and with her next movement flipped him over. He landed with a startled grunt on his back, the soft rug cushioning him. She straddled his knees and the wicked glint in her eyes made him tremble in anticipation.

“Thought I was seeing to you,” he said, with a rumbling chuckle.

“I’m full of surprises,” B replied, and her hungry gaze dropped to land on his goodies. She licked her lips and a fresh wave of lust made his cock twitch.

B tilted her head to the side, considering, then she grinned and bit her lip. What was the chit up—

The sharp coldness of the ice on his inner thigh made him suck in a breath, and she didn’t stop. The ice traveled up his leg, then over his balls.

Fuck, that was cold. Despite himself, he grunted and twitched, but she’d already moved to his cock, running the cube up and down his shaft and pressing it to the head.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, watching her as she determinedly worked the ice over his prick. The tip of her tongue was caught between her teeth.

“I want my…my…girl—” she paused. “Fine, my cunt, to feel all nice and warm when you get inside me.”

That was a new one on him. She really was full of surprises! “Kitten, sounds nice, but why did you start with my poor bollocks?”

“Oh, that was just to make you jump.”

“Bitch.”

“You know it,” she said with a grin. Making sure he was watching, she swirled the ice cube around the head of his prick one last time, smeared it through the drops of precum at the tip, and popped the cube into her mouth.

“Taste good?” he asked, fascinated at the press of her lips as she sucked on the ice.

“You always taste good.” B slid up his body and guided his cock into her pussy. As promised, she felt much warmer than usual. He groaned, basking in the feel of her. “I sometimes wish we could have done this when I was still human.”

“You never would have let me.” Spike pumped his hips as Buffy rocked and ground herself on him.

She threw her head back and he slid his fingers over her throat. “Probably not,” she agreed. Spike pushed two fingers into her mouth and she swirled her tongue and the remains of the ice cube around them. His other hand went to her clit and her hips sped up. Her inner muscles cinched down tight around his pick and she came with a wail.

It was glorious.

When the soft pulses of her cunt around his cock faded, he pulled his fingers from the suction of her mouth and rolled her onto her back. His pace sped up as he nuzzled her cheek and her fingers bit into his shoulders. “My mate,” he whispered to her and her nails scraped harder.

“Spike,” she murmured, then came again with a cry.

Her inner muscles were milking him hard, and he slammed his cock forcefully into her, making her writhe. “Spike,” she moaned. Her eyes opened and locked with his. “My mate!”

Her words sent him flying over the edge. His sac drew up and he peaked, gasping out her name as he pumped her full of his come in wave after wave of pure bliss.

He was hers.

Nothing else mattered.


	15. See My Friend Over There?

“It’s just a smoke, kitten.”

B’s lower lip crept out and Spike knew he was in danger of turning into an even bigger pile of goo than he already was. He scooped his very naked and pouty mate off the floor and into his arms. He placed her on the couch and very nearly crawled back between her thighs.

Surely one more time…

He stopped himself, barely. Dust, he reminded himself. She’ll be gone if you can’t get this mate-ritual worked out. He picked up the sheets of paper on the table and handed them to her.

“Read up, then you can tell me about it in fifteen. Sound good?”

B sighed. “Fine. Go have your cancer stick.”

“I think I’ll survive.”

“It’s the principle. And don’t take too long.” Her fangs emerged as her eyes dropped to the pages in her hand. A thrill ran through him. She was so bloody adorable.

Kissable.

Oh christ, there he went again. He turned away from the tempting picture she made and pulled his jeans on. Nothing else was worth the effort. From his duster’s pocket, he grabbed his smokes and lighter. Turning his head from side to side, he looked between the back and front of the house. He settled on the front because it was closer to her. Hopefully, there’d be no nosy neighbors quizzing Joyce later on why a half-dressed man was smoking on her front porch.

Outside, he tapped his Reds against his palm, freed one, and lit it. The first drag…was absolutely sodding terrible and he just wanted to go back inside to Buffy. He leaned against the porch railing, determined to finish the cig so she’d have some time to look over the ritual. A couple more puffs and he hunched his shoulders. He wasn’t alone.

“You can come out, I know you’re lurking,” Spike called, eyes on one of the trees in Buffy’s yard.

There was an audible sigh, and Angel appeared from around the far side of the trunk. “What are you doing, Spike?”

Spike tilted his head to the side. “Having a post-sex fag. You?”

Angel pressed his lips into a thin line, but shuffled over and sat, hunched up, on the porch steps. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Spike eyed his grandsire’s back. Angel didn’t move or make a noise, though a couple of crickets in the grass began chirping. A moth fluttered by and thumped into the porch light.

Spike knew he was going to regret it as soon as he opened his mouth, but the berk looked like he was ready to lie down on the blasted railroad tracks. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” Angel said. Spike waited a few moments. “It’s just…” Angel shifted on the step. “We were in love.”

“Mmm,” Spike agreed around a lungful of smoke. He entirely regretted opening his big mouth, but Angel was off and rolling.

“I thought she was it, the one for me, a gift from the PTB as a reward for working towards my redemption.”

Spike couldn’t stay silent. “She’s a girl, mate, not the prize at the bottom of a cosmic crackerjack box.”

“She’s not even a girl now.”

Spike snorted. “Beg to differ on that one. I know it was all the way back in January when you relieved her of her virginity, but I assure you all applicable girl parts are where they should be and in working order.”

“She’s a vampire.”

“Bloody hell, that explains the wrinklies and fangs.”

Angel growled. “She’s a monster. I made her a monster.”

Spike drummed the fingers of one hand on the railing of the porch and flicked the ash from his cig with the other. “No,” he said flatly. “She’s not as she was, but she’ll never be the same as the likes of us.”

Angel shook his head and hunched further into himself.

“What do you want?” Spike asked. “Absolution? Try a priest for that one. Acknowledgement of the tragic ending of your great and wondrous love affair with the Slayer? How bloody awful it is that the noble, souled Angelus, doer of good and wearer of sodding white hats, buggered up his heaven-sent redemption prize by murdering her?”

Angel shot to his feet and spun to face Spike.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Spike took one last puff and threw away the butt of his smoke. “You want someone to feel bad for you.”’

Angel opened and closed his mouth like a newly landed carp.

“I think you’re on your own with that one. It’s not my fault, or Buffy’s, or anyone one but yours that you couldn’t keep your fangs in your mouth.” Spike shrugged. “Not that I’m broken up about that or anything. Did the chit’s Watcher tell you what you did?”

“What I did?”

Spike smirked. The git didn’t know. “Well, Gramps, it turns out I owe you a huge debt of gratitude, which is the reason you’re not dust, seeing as how you’re on the soldier boys’ leash.”

Angel crossed his arms. “Debt? What are you talking about? And how long are you even here for? Dru’s not going to happy about you screwing a fledge.”

Spike threw his head back and laughed.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Angel grumbled.

“Dru doesn’t give a shit about who I’m shagging, never did, and she’s certainly not going to start now. Sent me on my way good and proper, she did. Found out why she was so bloody adamant I take off.” Spike couldn’t help the feral smile that spread across his face. “The girl inside this house. The amazing, gorgeous, smart-as-a-tack one?” Spike’s hands wrapped around the porch rail, the wood rough against his palms. “She isn’t just another vampire that you sired. B is my mate.”

Angel’s brows drew together. “Mate? Are you delusional?”

“I’m also the King of England because some watery tart lying in a pond threw a sword at me.”

Angel’s face scrunched up. 

“Watch a movie once in a while,” Spike said with a sigh. “It was a joke, but the part about Buffy being my mate, isn’t. We’re just figuring out the nitty-gritty about this cosmic binding ritual we need to do. Should be a blast, I’m sure. I’d ask you to stick around and watch, but I don’t think the missus would like that. Not to mention your lords and masters should be calling you home sooner or later if I’m not mistaken.”

“She can’t be your mate,” Angel muttered. He looked stricken. “She was sent to me.”

“She was never yours,” Spike snapped. “The powers put her in the right place at the right time and followed it up with getting me here to be present the second she rose from the ground. Heaven indeed sent her, it just wasn’t to you.”

Angel’s shoulders slumped. “You’re not leaving?”

Spike looked heavenward. “Not alone. You’re going to have to find another young girl to fixate on, Angelus.” His grandsire started down at the pavement of the walk that led to Buffy’s front door and scuffed the toe of his boot against it.

“Can’t do much of anything with this chip in my head,” he said.

“How’s it work?” Spike wasn’t that curious, but he figured he should know.

“There’s a box, it’s got a few different buttons, different pain levels. They said it’d be better if it could shock me automatically, but they’re still working on that one. I think they’re testing range at this point. They let me out and randomly set it buzzing to bring me back. No interrogation, yet.”

“What the fuck do you think they’re going to do with you?” Spike couldn’t suss it out. What would the bloody government types do with a vamp?

Angel crossed his arms. “Sooner or later they’ll give me a mission. I’m guessing I’m meant to be a weapon.”

Spike looked levelly at Angel. “I hate you,” he said. “I don’t want you anywhere near my mate, but we need to get that box away from the Gestapo. Even I don’t fancy you being their puppet.”

“Thank you.” Angel looked defeated. Spike almost felt bad for the bloke. Friendless, familyless, the blasted soul making him neither man nor demon, he’d lost the girl, and now he was the marionette of a bunch of bloody berks playing demon hunter.

Spike tossed the sorry sod a bone. “You try macking on that other Slayer yet? She looks good for a go.”

“Faith?”

“Seems the type to jump on a fence post if there’s no willing fellow around. And I doubt you’re going to risk a moment of perfect happiness with her.”

Angel narrowed his eyes at Spike.

“Don’t give me that look, Gramps. You’ve had that soul for a century. You might have the others believing it was some magical orgasm shenanigans that loosened that soul of yours, but there’s no way you haven’t been tossing off in all that time, and you were with us for a bit in China. Darla ain’t one to keep her skirts around her ankles, especially with you. I bet hers was hardly the only cunt you’ve been in over the decades.”

“Fine,” Angel muttered. “Congratulations, you know me.”

Spike scrubbed a hand over his face. Talking with Angel was exhausting and his girl was waiting inside. “Lovely chat this, but I should be getting—”

The door opened and B was standing there, still naked and in gameface, papers in hand. “This should be easy. What’s taking you so long out here?” She looked up and he could tell the instant Angel registered on her radar. The papers fluttered to the floor and she sprang forward with a roar, alighting in a crouch on the porch railing.

She was snarling and snapping at Angel, which was a treat in and of itself, but she was also bare, with her golden hair tumbling around her shoulders.

Angel’s eyes had nearly bugged out of his head and he was standing there, gaping. Then his nose twitched. He scowled. Obviously, the evidence of Spike’s recent coupling with his girl had reached the git’s nostrils.

Spike felt real terrible about that.

Though he didn’t like the way Peach’s eyes darted down from B’s face to her tits before snapping back up.

The girl was Spike’s.

All of her. He reached out and ran a hand down her spine, which was rigid with fury. It wasn’t the only thing that was rigid. His prick apparently hadn’t gotten the memo about ‘recently’. The blasted thing was angrily demanding he get back inside B as soon as sodding possible.

Speaking of sodding…

Now there was an idea.

Vaguely, Spike was aware that when he’d walked onto the porch he’d been worried about the neighbors seeing him having a fag and now he was going to shag B while she hissed at her sire. Eh, in for a penny and all that rot.

“Buffy,” Angel was saying, holding his hands up as if in surrender. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m…I’m sorry—”

Spike ignored the rest of whatever apology Angel was trying to stumble through. Did Angel really think B was about to forgive him? For any of it?

Spike ran his hands over her back again, then quickly undid his jeans, pushing them down just enough to free his aching prick. He put a hand between her legs and B’s angry noises broke off into a startled gasp. He coated his fingers with the slickness that was a combination of her juices and his come. The railing of the porch was just the right height for this, and the wooden railing was more than wide enough for her to balance on without risking her ending up in the shrubbery.

He lubed up his prick with what was on his hand and spread some more of the fluid leaking from her cunt back around her anus. It really wasn’t enough, but Bitch was unlikely to mind a little pain along with the pleasure.

With a grunt, he pressed his cockhead against her ass and slowly pushed inside her. B groaned and sunk her claws into the wood of the pillar beside her. She looked over her shoulder at him, her yellow eyes at half-mast and her succulent pink bottom lip caught under one fang.

Christ, she was gorgeous.

He invaded her further, driving himself in inch by inch until he was sheathed entirely in her sweet ass. Spike slid his hands around her to grab her tits.

He suddenly remembered Angel was there and risked glancing at the berk, but he was staring at the grass beside the walkway and mumbling some nonsense.

With a shrug, Spike let his fangs drop as he slowly pulled his cock back before slamming it home again. It must have been rougher than B had been expecting because she had to scramble to keep her perch. She squawked an indignant noise at him and braced herself more firmly. Figuring she could use a little help, he tightened his arms around her as he rolled his hips, fucking her ass with easy, languid strokes. She felt so bloody good and his entire body relaxed. This was where he was supposed to be.

B made a rough, growling sound of pleasure as he pinched her nipples and Angel’s head came up. He took a few shuffling steps forward.

“Buffy, you have to understand…” Angel trailed off. “What the hell are you two doing?” he barked.

Spike didn’t reply, but B giggled. “I think it’s kind of obvious,” she lisped around her fangs.

Angel’s expression was one of complete horror. Which, frankly, just made Spike enjoy the whole thing more. On an instroke, he paused to grind against B, his balls tight against the lips of her cunt. Buffy mewled happily and one of her hands went between her legs to rub her clit. He cooed his approval and merrily continued to maul her tits.

“You just can’t…” a voice sputtered.

Oh, right, Angel was still there.

“Spike,” Angel snapped. He looked angry for an instant, but then his face fell. “Buffy, I’m right here.”

B was subtly rocking her hips as Spike shagged her and he could feel her body starting to tense. She was getting close to peaking. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her beloved scent.

“You can go away,” Spike said to his grandsire. Part of him was enjoying rubbing the wanker’s nose in the fact Buffy was his girl, both now and apparently for all time, but it was starting to get on his nerves just how long Angel had been gape-mouth staring at B.  

“Take a picture,” she said to Angel. “It’ll last longer.”

Spike closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of his cock pumping in and out of his girl’s ass and the way her breasts filled his hands. He didn’t want to think of anything else. Certainly not ruddy Angel.

Spike molded himself against B’s back, his cheek pressed to the nape of her neck, drinking in her cries of pleasure.

Buffy trembled and came, softly keening out her relief. God, he loved her.

“Is this some attempt to get back at me?” Angel asked. Was he still bloody there?

“Hang on—” Buffy panted.

“What?” Angel sounded confused.

Buffy claws dug into the wood harder as she crested again.

Cracking an eye open, Spike looked at Angel’s bewildered expression. He’d slept with her, hadn’t he? Shouldn’t he know how Buffy orgasmed? First one, then another quickly after? Followed by a bit more of a build up to the…

Spike nearly bit his own tongue as he worked it out. Angel hadn’t got her off. He’d taken her virginity and not given her anything in return. Anger coiled in Spike’s belly. His hands went to Buffy’s shoulders, holding her in place while his thrusts sped up.

“Look, Spike, are you trying to get revenge for me and Drusilla—”

“Oh my god!” Buffy said. “Not everything is about you!”

Angel took a step back as if she’s slapped him.

Buffy was glaring at Angel, but Spike refused to slow down as she continued speaking, even if he was making her sound breathless. “What Spike and I are dealing with has nothing to do with you. If you want to help, find out more about the commandos. The girl who loved you is dead, and I would much, much, much—” she broke off and moaned, “much rather be fucked on my porch by the man I do care for than be in the same zip code as you.”

“Look.” Angel’s face turned sour. “I wanted to tell you something, Buffy. Something not in that little book Giles has on vampire mating. And, of course, I don’t know this from experience, but it’s part of the legend, something I’m betting even Spike hasn’t heard.”

Brilliant, now grandpa was imparting wisdom.

“Right now, Buffy,” Angel said, his eyes fixed somewhere above their heads. “Your beautiful, untarnished soul is floating around the ether, someday to go to heaven when your earthly form is no more. If you mate yourself to the thing you’re rutting with, then your soul becomes bound with his. Girl-Buffy forced into eternity with poet-William.” Did Angel have to sneer quite so much as he said the last? “And perhaps you do end up in heaven together, but your souls might also become meshed with your demons, and be drug back to whetever hell spawned them.”

“So what you’re saying—” B’s voice was somewhat hoarse. “Is that all of me and Spike will be together forever?”

“Uh…not quite…”

“Spike! Did you hear?” She sounded downright bubbly.

Not that he blamed her. Every bit of him and her, together, long past the point of dust. The sheer longing for it sent a shudder down his spine. “I heard,” he growled, slamming his cock hard into her, telling her with his body how perfect the idea was to him.

“Can you go the fuck away now?” B asked Angel.

Her words finally seemed to sink into Angel’s thick skull. With a last, hateful, look at Spike, Angel turned and trudged away. Spike supposed he should feel elated. He’d reversed the tables, right? He’d won the girl. Only he found that mostly, he just didn’t care what Angel thought. It didn’t matter. B wasn’t a prize he’d wrested out of Angel’s grasp.

She was everything.

B’s body undulated and she came twice more in quick succession. He didn’t want to stop fucking her, but he had little choice as his sac drew tight against his body. The ecstasy when he came stole his vision and his reason. He babbled promises of love, devotion, eternity. He was hers, demon, body, and soul.

When Spike came back to earth, he pulled out of her and helped her down off the railing. Her legs trembled as she walked back inside, but she managed to retrieve the fallen pieces of paper. He followed her and slammed the door shut. Bloody idiotic thing to do, tupping her on her mum’s front porch.

“Do you think it’s true?” she asked.

“That what’s true?”

B looked up at him, her face unreadable. “About the souls?”

“I like to think that it is…” He trailed off and reached out to cup her cheek. “Oh, luv. I didn’t think…” He only had his mum that might be looking for him in heaven and after what he did, maybe not even her. So if they were locked to their demon-selves, it hardly mattered to him. But B—her friends and family were so important to her. “You’ll want to see everyone in the hereafter. I can’t…there’s no way for me to make this stop, but we just go to a cave or something, enjoy each other until we’re gone, yeah? Won’t be so bad.”

Buffy crossed her arms and her eyes dropped. “What would happen if our souls were locked with our demons?”

Spike shrugged. “He said the demon’s go back to wherever they come from, all connected-like. They don’t have set forms there, so they’re swirled together and our souls with them. Probably mostly just ignored by other demons for being a bit off, but I think with the mating bond we won’t care one damn bit.”

Buffy’s gaze rose to meet his. “Heaven wouldn’t be heaven, not without you, Spike. We do this ritual. We mate.” Her voice was strong and sure. “And what comes after, comes after.”

Spike swept her into his arms, not caring of the papers that crinkled as he smushed her against him. He couldn’t even begin to express the way his heart was filled far past overflowing. She’d chosen him.

Every minute of humiliation he’d suffered through as a human, every time Angelus had cut him down, every time Dru’s fancy had strayed to some other bloke…it all became worth it to get to this moment. This second, when the most remarkable creature in existence gave herself to him and accepted all that he was in return.

He’d never done up his fly, and his cock was lengthening and hardening again, eager to be inside his girl once more. He wanted to show her with his body exactly how much she meant to him. He’d make her scream this time so that the whole world would know who she belonged to.

B’s hands landed on his chest and pushed him back. With a growl, he lunged at her. What the bloody hell was she doing? Panting, B side-stepped.

“Ritual,” she gasped. “Ritual now.”

Oh, right.

“Go wash up,” B added.

Oh…double right.

She waved the papers at him before turning her back and heading for a shelf. “I’ll get things ready.”

Holding several candles, she sorted through a selection of incense. “And Spike, take your damn pants off.”

A goddess. His mate was a goddess.


	16. What Are You Doing For The Rest of Your Life?

Spike disappeared into the downstairs bathroom and B stood naked in her living room, looking down at the candles in her hand.

Bitch was less than pleased that she couldn’t see Spike and was vaguely suggesting they smash open the bathroom door to get to him, but Buffy told her demon to stop with the freak out for two seconds. Something really important was about to happen, and Buffy needed to think.

 _About Spike?_  Bitch asked suspiciously.

Buffy rolled her eyes.  _Mostly_.

The demon grumped but settled down enough that B wasn’t in a complete panic because her eyes weren’t on her mate.

Buffy felt weird. Her life had gone kerflooey. Heck, she wasn’t even alive anymore. Faith was the one girl in all the world now. Buffy was a vampire who didn’t blink at having anal sex on her mother’s front porch while her ex-boyfriend and Sire had something resembling a conversation with her and her current boyfriend.

 _Mate!_  Bitch shrieked, poking at Buffy’s mind.

 _I know, I know_ , she soothed.

Her mate, who was the most important part of this new reality she found herself in. She couldn’t even imagine what might have happened if Spike hadn’t been there when she’d dug herself out of the ground. She’d been so hungry and pissed off, but it’d all drained away into pure lust as she’d stood beside him. Otherwise…would she have attacked her Watcher? Would he have been able to keep her at bay or would she have ripped his throat out for her first meal?

Even Bitch felt disgruntled about killing Giles.  _He’s family._

Shaking her head, Buffy returned her attention to the shelf she’d taken the candles from and grabbed a few sticks of incense and a holder. Tilting her head, B studied the living room. She’d been thinking they’d just do it here since the where shouldn’t matter, but it wasn’t right. Something so meaningful shouldn’t just happen any old place.

She knew Spike and she couldn’t stay with her mom. Joyce didn’t deserve a couple of sex-crazed supernatural beings hogging her house. Damn it, B really wanted that crypt to be her home. It was cozy. Maybe she and Spike could try again? Like, perhaps the Initiative had already checked it off their list and wouldn’t come back for a second look?

Setting the question of a permanent residence aside, she went back to trying to figure out where to do the claiming. B looked towards the kitchen.  Would the basement be good for the ritual? Concrete was pretty sturdy. Only, no…still not right. Old dusty shelves and a dirty floor beside a washing machine weren’t what she had in mind.

Holding her supplies, Buffy trotted up the stairs to her room and dumped the candles, incense, and papers on her bed while she rooted through her makeup for a red lipstick to use as body paint. She found one and looked up, right into the mirror over her vanity.

For a moment, confusion and fear rolled through her, but she didn’t flinch. So what if she wasn’t part of the world anymore? Spike saw her, and in the end, that’s what mattered. B stared at her non-reflection. She was never again going to fit into the room the mirror was reflecting. It was a girly room, a teenager’s room, one that belonged to someone caught between being a child and an adult.

B cocked her head.

It was exactly what she needed.

Yes. Here, in this room, B could go from being a girl and newly turned vampire to something else entirely, become whatever she would be after she joined herself forever with her mate.

Whirling away from the mirror, she pushed the supplies to the floor and yanked the blanket off the bed. There was a good chance the bed wouldn’t survive the ritual, but she didn’t care…no, she did care, but she wanted to see it destroyed as she fucked her mate into oblivion. Part of her wanted everything in the room destroyed, all traces of the girl Buffy Summers to be as dead as her.

“Luv?” Spike said from the doorway. Her eyes darted to him. He’d lost his pants like she asked and was leaning with his shoulder propped against the doorframe. B knew she was supposed to be doing something but had completely forgotten what.

 _Spike!_  Bitch was wiggling in joy.

Spike’s gaze had wandered from her face downwards, and his cock was lengthening and thickening. She watched avidly as he hardened, thrilled that she was the cause. Her cunt was aching to be filled, and she was rubbing her thighs together in anticipation. He pushed himself off the doorframe and started towards her, determination on his face.

B put her hand out and realized she was holding a tube of lipstick. It took her a moment. The ritual! Crap! They had to. With a squeak, she bent over and retrieved the papers, brandishing them at her mate. He stopped, looked highly confused at the papers she was waving and then the lightbulb went on.

“Hurry,” he ground out from between clenched teeth.

Lust was making her mind fuzzy. “Okay,” she said shakily and popped the lipstick open. Checking the notes, she drew a sun on one of Spike’s shoulders and some glyphs that were meaningless to her, but she was sure they had a point, on the other. She handed him the lipstick and paper and pointed to what he needed to do. He drew the symbol that represented the moon in three phases on her shoulder. The makeup felt silky smooth, and she shuddered at being touched. She needed him so bad.

A whimper left her as he moved his hand to the other side and wrote out the glyphs. He leaned closer for a second, then his hand darted down and scrawled something on her belly.

She scrunched up her nose. “Really?” Right below her bellybutton, he’d written ‘Spike’s’ and put an arrow pointing to her pussy.

“ ‘S the truth.”

He had her there.

Spike tossed the lipstick over his shoulder.

“Now what?”

“Uh, we get on the bed, do it and say some stuff, and bite each other.”

Spike’s eyes fluttered closed, and he groaned. “Are you sure we have to say actual words?”

“Yeah,” she frowned at the paper. “Stuff about belonging to each other, being bound for all eternity, blah, blah, blah.”

Spike’s demon flashed over his face for an instant, and she felt her features shift in response.

“Maybe it’s the intent more than the specific words that matter?” she asked. “I’m not sure I’m going to remember any of this. I just want to be yours!”

“Mine,” Spike growled, and Buffy found herself being propelled backward onto the bed, Spike’s hands pinning hers at her sides as his mouth clamped around one of her nipples. She moaned and arched her back. “Going to make you mine,” he said against her breast. “My girl, my mate.”

She writhed against him. He was hard: tense muscles, rigid cock, firm lips. It made her melt. “Please,” she gasped.

“Please, what?”

“Please, sir.”

Spike made a contented noise and Bitch was thrilled, right up until Spike lifted himself off Buffy. She squawked in protest and started to sit up, but Spike snarled and pushed her back flat with a hand on her chest. “Stay there.”

She sagged against the bed and whimpered.

He yanked her sheet out from under her and with a loud tearing noise ripped off several strips of fabric from it.

“Going to tie you up proper,” Spike said, tilting his head to the side and studying her. His demon slid forward. “Going to make it so you forget anyone else ever touched you.”

So she’d forget? What? Her one under the blanket fumble? Compared to his decades of banging whoever? His lifetimes spent loving someone else? There was no controlling the jealousy that ripped through her as Bitch howled in anger. Buffy sat up and tackled Spike, clawing at him as they smashed down onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs.

“Me? So I’ll forget?” she cried. “What about you? You’re the one with a century of fucking someone else! You don’t want to forget her! Or maybe all the other girls you’ve been with, huh? Do you think about them when you’re inside me? Wish it was Drusilla who was sucking your dick? Close your eyes and think about some human’s warm cunt you’ve been in?” Buffy’s mind was whiting out with her rage.

“Bitch!” he roared, trying to fling her off him, but she sank her claws into his arm and landed a solid blow to his jaw. “Bloody hell, stop, you hellion.”

She was too upset to be coordinated, and he managed to flip her over onto her back again and pin her wrists with one hand over her head. She snapped her fangs at him.

“Shhh,” he soothed. “I’m yours, Bitch. Gonna prove it to you if you’ll bloody quit.” She tried to dislodge him, but he had her at a disadvantage, and she growled loudly as he looped the bedsheet around her wrists and pulled the knot tight. “No one in my head but you, kitten.” He sounded almost…desperate. She quit thrashing and peered up at him.

Spike reached over her and tied the end of the sheet to her headboard. He was trembling as he leaned down and pressed his cheek to hers.

“Need you, B,” he mumbled. “I’m so full of you there’s barely room for me in here. I hate that I was without you just as much as you do. We’ll never be like that again after tonight, luv. Please don’t hate me. Oh god, please…”

He broke off and lifted his head, twisting so his throat was exposed to her.

For a moment she was angry enough to put him off, tell him to wait for the ritual, but then her fury disappeared. She surged forward and sank her fangs into him, and Spike shuddered as she sucked in a mouthful of blood.

“Yes, love you, love you,” he moaned as she drank. His hips were flexing, and his erection was sliding over her belly. She bit down harder, and he gasped, ground his dick against her, and came, emptying his load onto her stomach and chest.

B let him go, and he sat back on his heels, panting. He swept his hands over her skin, rubbing his come in as she purred.  

He smiled at her.

“Love you, too,” she said, curling a leg around his hip. His long fingers stroked her thigh for a moment, but then he detangled himself. She growled in protest.

“No worries, B. I’m going to make you scream with bliss, just give me a tic to get everything ready.” He slid off the bed and grabbed her ankle, using a strip of the sheet to tie it to the bedframe. Walking to the other side of the bed, he repeated the process, leaving her stretched wide for him.

She was empty and yearning. Needing.

He bent over and straightened up with candles and incense she’d brought stairs, along with the papers outlining the ritual, which she didn’t remember dropping.  

Spike set up the candles around the room, lighting them with BBQ lighter she had sitting on a shelf beside a scented candle Willow had given her.

It was a good thing her friends couldn’t see her now, tied to a bed and slick with desire for her mate.

She was a demon.

She was Spike’s.

B cried out, wanting him.

“Nearly ready,” he said, lighting a stick of incense from one of the candles. “Got to get this bloody right,” he muttered, more to himself than to B. “Get this fucking thing right, William. It’s the first time in your worthless existence you’re doing something that matters.”

He waved the incense over her and the bed before putting the stick in a holder. The air was heavy with smoke and the pungent scent of the burning herbs.

Spike stood beside the bed, paper in hand. “You’ll need to repeat what I say, B, alright?”

She nodded.

“Good.” He was staring down at her. “You look good enough to eat all spread out like that. And I can smell how wet you are for your Spike. Going shag you into the bloody floor.” His cock was hardening again, quickly going from soft to fully erect.

“Ritual,” she managed to whisper. Precum was beading on the top of his dick, and the scent of his arousal coupled with her own was driving her crazy. She licked her lips.

His eyes flew back to the paper. “Ritual…ah, here goes: Torn asunder, flung worlds apart, I have found my other half.”

She echoed the words and Bitch trembled. It’d be so long without him. Her demon features melted as tears gathered in her eyes.

“My body, mind, demon, and soul belong to you.”

Her face crumpled as she gasped out the words.

“Together beyond time, beyond the illusion of space, forsaking all others, I swear myself to you, my lover, my other self, my universe.” Spike’s cheeks were damp as well.

Buffy repeated the words, and the candle flames flickered and grew as something—the world, perhaps—suddenly took notice. The hairs on her arms stood on end as magic seeped into the room.

Spike dropped the paper and climbed on to the bed. He positioned himself between her thighs. Her fingers clamped down hard on the sheets. She wanted to touch him and tried to curl her body around him as he wedged the head of his cock against her opening.

He braced his hands on either side of her body, and his face shifted as his demon returned to the surface.

Bitch surged forward, and B growled slightly as her fangs descended.

Spike thrust his hips forward, ramming his cock to the hilt inside her in one motion. Her body eagerly welcomed him.

“We are one,” he said.

“We are one.”

Heat slammed into her chest, and she arched up off the bed as much as her bonds would let her.

He was in her, a part of her, pleasure like she’d never imagined was singing through her veins.

Spike’s hips were rocking, and he was whimpering, and she was mewling and ohgodohgodohgod she had to touch him. He wanted her to. Wanted her nails on his back as he made love to her.

She loved him.

Lovedhimlovedhimlovedhim

“Spike!”

She yanked on the headboard, and it gave way with a screech, but her hands were still tied.

Spike’s mouth met hers, and he kissed her achingly deep as he thrust increasingly fast into her. The bed was rattling, and she pulled on the restraints around her ankles, trying to break free.

Pressure was building inside her, to come…to be…

It wound tighter and tighter, and B gave up on trying to do anything but raise her pelvis to meet Spike’s and to grasp with her inner muscles at his pounding cock.

Then she couldn’t even do that. Her body tensed, she was perched on the edge of something, hanging in an endless moment. She needed, she needed…

Spike’s fangs pierced her neck, and it was like a levee gave way, and the entire ocean rolled in to engulf her.

She thought she might be screaming.

Bliss crashed over her again and again.

Spike’s deep voice whispered in her ear, “Mine.”

Everything inside her stilled, and she was floating on gentle, rolling wave of joy and contentment.  “Yours.”

Spike groaned, and his cock jerked as his thrusts became frantic and wild. His face became pained, and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. She watched from her place of peace as he climbed higher and higher towards his peak, and when she could feel he was almost there, his muscles quivering, she craned her neck forward and sank her fangs into his throat.

She could taste his pleasure as it exploded across her tongue.

He was trashing and moaning, and she wrapped her arms—she blinked, when had she torn through the sheet?—around him to help soothe him through the nearly unbearable pleasure she knew he was experiencing.

Releasing his throat, she sank back onto the bed. “Mine,” she said, feeling the magic as it rushed through her and into her mate.

Spike’s eyes snapped open, and his already wide pupils dilated still further as the same deep calm she was in overtook him. “Yours.”

Bitch was…she wasn’t alone. B’s mouth fell open as she could sense her demon and Spike’s swirling about each other.

Happy, so happy.

Not alone. Never alone again.

And she could…she could feel her mate’s love for her, and she sent all hers for him right back at him.

Spike’s demon features receded. “Oh, luv,” he sobbed and collapsed on top of her, burying his face against her neck. She couldn’t read his thoughts, just feel what he was as the claim settled into place, but she understood.

He had been made to love and be loved, and at last he was home.

Spike abruptly pushed himself up on his hands. “You’ll never be alone again, B. Never wonder if you’re wanted.”

She took a deep breath. Obviously, Spike could read her as well as she could read him.

At last, he pulled his cock from her body and lay down beside her, his gaze never leaving hers. Buffy found she’d yanked her feet free at some point too, and she kicked the remains of the sheets off her ankles as she curled up against Spike.

He spent a long time stroking her face and petting her hair, his movements soft and gentle. She held still, basking in the attention and enjoying simply being able to love him. It was all made even better because he’d be able to feel just how much she liked his touches and the fact that her love was torrent of feeling that had no end.

One of the candles guttering out brought them back to reality. B looked around blearily, aware it was close to dawn. Her bed was trashed, parts of it broken and bent and the mattress was resting on the floor. The mattress hadn’t fared well itself. There were long claw marks where stuffing was leaking out, and some of the springs were totally busted.

Oops.

Her nightstand was on its side, her lamp in pieces. The telephone looked beyond repair as well.

“I don’t remember anything but you,” Buffy said, bewildered.

Spike grinned. “You expected anything less?”

“Ego much?”

“You know it.”

She pushed at his shoulder and giggled, feeling giddy for a moment before yawning.

“Poor little fledge,” he clucked. “I wore you out.”

“Seriously? I can feel that you’re just as tired.”

His brow scrunched up. “Oh yeah. That’s going to take some sodding getting used to.”

She pressed a kiss to his lips and pushed him a little harder. Grumbling he stood and gathered up the discarded bedlinen and other blankets and quilts she had lying around the room, dumping them on the bed before checking to make sure the curtains were closed tightly.

There were red patches on his shoulders and abdomen, and, for a moment, she thought it was blood until she looked down at herself and saw matching smears. It was the lipstick they’d marked themselves with, smeared beyond all recognition. Oh well, plenty of time later to clean it off.

B luxuriated in the warmth of the claim. Spike was correct, it was going to take some getting used to, but it felt so right, so good, that it was hard to imagine she’d been living without the connection to her mate.

For the first time since rising as a vampire, she felt truly settled and at peace. Bitch was safe and happy, cuddled up with Spike’s demon, two halves at last whole.

Buffy thought about sorting out the mound of blankets, but that seemed too much like work, so instead, she curled up under the haphazard pile into a ball as Spike dropped back onto the mattress. He wormed under the covers as well and molded himself around her back with his arm clasping her to him.

And all was right with the world.


	17. Where Do You Hide Your Wings?

He woke up to the feeling of being loved.

Buffy, vampiric ridges in place, was on all fours beside him, nuzzling his cheek.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi, pig.” He stretched and brought an arm around her shoulders. “I can feel you, like, in my brain.”

“Me too.”

“You love me!” She sounded gleeful, and the feeling of her mirth washed over him. He laughed. He’d never realized until now what had been wrong with every moment of every day: he hadn’t been connected to her. His beautiful, beloved B.

Lust and hunger were soft undercurrents in what she was feeling.

“I can feel so much, kitten,” he said, closing his eyes. He tried sending a few stray thoughts to B, but she didn’t seem to hear, and he couldn’t hear any of hers. The information on claims that he’d read had been dodgy on the telepathy. It might develop with time, or they just might be so in tune with each other it’d appear to be telepathy to others.

A note of mischievousness wound its way through Buffy.

Spike cracked an eye open. Her bottom lip was caught under her fangs in the way that made all the blood in his body damn near boil, but her eyes were glinting.

She was up to something.

Fuck, he was a lucky bloke.

The connection was going to take some getting use to, it was a bit crowded in his noggin at the moment, but it felt right. This was what he’d been born for, to be hers.

 _Forever_ , William sighed. And for once, Spike entirely agreed with that part of himself.

B pursed her lips and glanced down his body. His cock was erect, having woken up before he did, and she studied it intently before leaning down to lick along the underside.

He gasped, and Buffy’s fangs receded as she bent over to suck his prick deep into her mouth.

Bloody hell, he could feel how it turned her on to have his cock between her lips. That was some heady information. She was noisily sucking on him, and it was divine, but sensing her need was driving him barmy.

Sitting up enough to reach her, he grabbed her thigh and pulled until she got the message and swung around to settle her knees on either side of his head.

Perfect!

He lapped at her folds and clit, basking in her scent and how slick she was. Buffy straightened up and eagerly rode his face. Spike was thrilled she’d become such a wanton little thing, always wanting his touch. The overwhelming need was supposed to be more controllable now that they were mated, but he wasn’t much interested in testing that theory, not when he had her cream dripping on his tongue.

Her movements became erratic as she approached climax and he wanted her to…oh good, she’d figured it out.

B planted her hands beside his hips and took him nearly entirely down her throat as she shuddered through an orgasm, keening out her pleasure around his prick. The bliss pulsed through the claim and her ecstasy washed over him in waves.

Bloody hell, how was he supposed to do anything ever again besides bring her to climax?

Buffy slid a hand over his thigh and cupped his balls as she bobbed her head. Her hand massaged him, and one finger pressed lightly on the spot behind his scrotum. His hips jerked, driving his cock down her throat as he moaned. Her finger continued to pet him gently, then worked its way lower until she was pressing against his anus.

Something resembling a question came across their link. Ah, so this was what B had been wanting to do. It’d never been something he’d hungered for, but his girl wanting to play…that did things to him.

“Go ahead, kitten,” he rasped.

Buffy squealed with delight, but then she removed her hand from him.  There was the sound of a bottle being squeezed and then she was pressing at his anus again, her finger now slick with lube. Licking at the flood of moisture he was getting from her cunt, Spike relaxed. She was still sucking his cock, though less aggressively now since she was concentrating on what else she was doing lower down.

Her finger slid into him, and she wiggled it around, and he grunted and surged deep into her mouth when she found and pressed against his prostate. She must have been reading his reactions through the claim as well as physically because as she started gliding her finger in and out, she added a second one, and she kept brushing over the place that felt the best.

Her hand and mouth faltered as she twitched through another orgasm, and Spike gloried in the reflected pleasure as it washed down his spine in warm pulses. When he’d wrung the last spams out of her, she pulled her mouth off and fingers out him before scrambling down his body to impale herself on his cock. She was facing his feet and giving him a lovely view of her backside.

He grunted and thrust sharply upwards, making her keen.

This was a hell of a good way to wake up.

He kneaded her ass as she slid up and down his shaft.

The little thread of mischievousness from earlier returned and Buffy stilled as she looked over her shoulder at him.

“Yes?” Spike said.

She grinned and fumbled with a hand in the blankets for a moment before holding up a sparkly purple dildo.

He raised an eyebrow. It certainly wasn’t that impressive, say, compared to him, thank you very much.

“Can I?” she asked breathlessly.

His girl wanted to fuck him, did she? Spike shrugged a shoulder. “Knock yourself out. Can get a harness and do it proper if you want.”

She seemed to think about that for a moment. “Maybe?” Her demon features appeared and the feeling he was getting was much more a ‘yes’ than her words implied. “Will I hurt you?” she asked as she grabbed the lube bottle and dumped a generous amount on the dildo.

“Probably a little,” he purred. “But you know that’s not an issue.” He vamped out and dug his claws into her ass to prove the point. She jerked, then moaned and circled her hips.

Buffy pushed at his legs, and he obediently spread them so she could more easily find what she was looking for. The dildo pressed against his anus. With a little growl, B pushed it inside him and, as he’d told her, it hurt, though not badly.

Probably feeling his discomfort, B didn’t immediately start fucking him with the toy, instead rolling her hips and squeezing her brilliant inner muscles around his cock.

“Oi, that’s the ticket, luv,” he said, voice hoarse.

The dildo started moving, gentle strokes that matched the lift and drop of her pelvis.

The pleasure of it was overwhelming. Spike could feel B’s body reaching towards another peak, right along with his. He bit the claw off a finger and slid it around where they where joined, gathering her honey, before pressing it against her anus. She groaned, and he slipped the finger a couple of knuckles deep into her ass.

“Rub your clit, B, come with me. So close…I want you with me.”

Buffy’s head fell back, and she mewled as her fingers found her clit.

Closer…closer…

His peak crashed into him, and he roared, bucking his hips up roughly against his girl. The pulses of pleasure as he spent his load were heightened by the dildo, and then Buffy was coming as well, her pussy fluttering around his prick as she screamed.

It was good. Beyond words.

Spike couldn’t see through the white haze of ecstasy, both hers and his own.

Bloodlust danced along his nerves, making him snarl, but it wasn’t his. He curled up around Buffy, his cock still inside her and the dildo still in his ass, though she no longer had a hand on it. He pressed his wrist to her mouth.

B’s fangs sank deep, and he was hard again, fucking her in short, sharp, strokes that made him come quickly, bliss so intense it was painful. He grunted and convulsed as Buffy’s pussy spasmed around him. No world existed except her body and the pleasure they created together.

She nuzzled and licked his wrist as they started to come down.

Someone cleared their throat from the doorway.

B, blood on her lips and chin, snarled at the intruder. It took Spike a second to place him. It was the short, red-haired kid—werewolf—that followed Willow around.

“I, uh, got the short straw,” the kid said. Oz, wasn’t he called Oz? “So I won the joy of coming to tell you two that everyone’s downstairs waiting for you. We sort of thought you might not…uh, I waited until there was less noise and now I’m just going to go.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder before spinning and disappearing down the stairs.

“Why can’t we be left alone?” B said, sounding sad.

Spike hugged her. “They don’t get it luv.” He rubbed his cheek against her back. “Never will.”

She pulled the dildo from his ass, making him grunt, before tossing it aside and turning to face him. He pulled her into a hug.

“This is nice,” she said. “My mate.”

“Us against the world.”

She snorted. “Right now, more us against my friends. I guess we should get dressed.” She stood, and he had to fight to keep from grabbing her and pulling her back down to curl up under the blankets again, but he did need to eat, and there were things they needed to sort through with the others.

At least she smelled deliciously like him and, more importantly, them.

Scooping up his clothes, B chucked them at him before pulling a scrap of black lace out of a drawer that he didn’t recognize as knickers until she pulled them on and up over the curves of her rear. As he donned his kit, B sorted through her closet and came out wearing a short green skirt, black halter top, and boots with a tiny heel.

She put her hair up into a loose ponytail and put on a little lipstick and blush. She handed the mascara to Spike, and he swept it over her lashes.

Downstairs, they were met with nods, and no one seemed interested in looking them in the eye. Spike smirked. They must have all heard him making her scream. Wonderful thought, that. B was his, and he wanted every last wanker in the universe to know it.  

Speaking of, even though the sun was nearly below the horizon, Angel was conspicuously absent.

Giles entered the living room, balancing three large Styrofoam cups on a tray that he set on the coffee table.

Spike grabbed on and took a gulp. “Ta,” he said before draining the rest of the cup. He was famished.

“I take it the ritual was a success,” Giles asked.

“Yup,” Buffy said. “I can totally feel, like, Spike’s feelings. He’s happy right now to be feeding, though he has little opinion on the blood itself.”

“Weird,” Willow said, wrinkling up her nose at the same time Giles said, “Fascinating.”

“Are you alright, honey?” Joyce asked.

“I’m good,” Buffy said. She glanced over to where Faith was, and Spike pushed reassurance through the claim as he polished off the second cup of blood and went for the third.

Faith crossed her arms and sat forward. “I still can’t believe you’re a demon,” she said to B.

Buffy cocked her head to the side. “I didn’t ask to be.” She glanced at Spike and smiled. “But I’m not upset about it either. I suppose no soul…” She lifted a hand in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture.

“I don’t want to end up as one,” Faith said.

“I don’t want you to, either,” Buffy replied. They locked gazes for a moment, but then Faith looked away.

“Alright,” Faith said. “Um, we’ve got a plan with the mayor and the Initiative.”

“It’s not a great plan,” Xander grumbled.

Spike finished the third cup of blood and went to sit cross-legged on the floor since there were no open chairs. Buffy sank into his lap.

“Well,” Spike said. “What’s this plan?”

The Watcher cleared his throat. “With the mayor being demonic in nature, we figure he might not be keen on having an organization devoted to demon destruction breathing down his neck.”

“I don’t think he knows they’re here,” Willow said. “I can’t find a single record that would suggest a base being built or even a suspicious utility bill. At the least, the Initiative is guilty of not paying taxes, and the mayor might not be happy with that, but we need more proof that they’re hunting demons.”

Xander shifted in his seat. “This is part of what makes this plan not cool.” He looked less than thrilled.

“Spill,” Buffy said. She was tense and worried. Spike rubbed a hand over her back. Being around others was not easy for her. He could guess why, to an extent, since the lot of them remembered her as their golden goody-goody Slayer and daughter, and now she was part demon with a demon’s needs and desires. Most of which weren’t compatible with the girl she’d been.

What was left of the Slayer side was still a wild card.

“We need a radio,” Faith said. “One of G.I. Joe’s walkie-talkies so the mayor can listen in. Maybe some of their gear.”

“And how are we getting this?” Spike asked. “Ask nicely?”

The group eyed each other, and Joyce frowned.

Finally, Faith sighed. “There’s not much of a plan. I’m going to patrol, and when the men in green show up, I’m going to knock one out, grab what I can, and run.”

In Spike’s lap, Buffy stiffened, and fear and anger rolled off her. He didn’t quite understand what she was upset over, except that the other Slayer was doing a job that should be hers.               

“What if we go too?” he asked. Relief colored the connection.

Faith made a face.

“That might be desirable,” Giles said. “Buffy and Spike could help take on any demons you find, and if there’s more than one commando, they certainly will be an asset. Though remember we’re not trying to kill any of the soldiers.”

“Too bad,” Faith muttered, and Spike agreed.

“Wait,” Joyce said. “These commandos are after demons, aren’t they? Aren’t you basically asking my daughter to be bait?”

Giles looked flustered. “Their presence might make it more likely for the soldiers to appear.” He winced. “I do not want to think that I am using Buffy as bait.”

“No qualm about me, though?” Spike said.

The Watcher glared at him.

“We’ll help,” Buffy said. “Bait is okay.”

“The hell it is,” Spike whispered to her. She poked him.

“It is.” She shook her head, and her demon features appeared. He did the same. “We’ll be fine, and I can’t wait to get a few good hits on those bozos for thinking they could mess with my town.”

Spike smiled, proud of her.

B smiled in return. “We’ll give them a run for their money.”

****

Spike flipped the stake he was carrying end over end.

He’d always imagined patrol had to be busy for a Slayer, but so far it’d been boring and he was mostly keeping Faith and Buffy from killing each other.

Faith kept making passive-aggressive remarks about B’s demon status, which Spike figured was because the chit was terrified she’d end up the same way, but Faith had no idea of the line B was walking. Bitch was screaming for Faith’s blood and was probably whispering that Spike was about to run off and shag Faith.

Besides some cross looks B had thrown him, he didn’t have any proof of that. Except his own demon was in a tizzy and occasionally worried B was going to run off with Faith and shag her, and that made him either want to snap Faith’s neck or just follow behind them and ask if they’d let him watch.

Though then he’d gotten jealous over his fantasy and had gone back to dreaming of eviscerating the Slayer. Or letting B eviscerate her. He could imagine B coated in fresh Slayer blood with the bird’s still-beating heart in her hand. He smiled to himself. Now that was a pretty picture.

“What made you so happy?” B hissed, dropping back to walk beside him. She was glaring, and he realized he must have been looking at Faith while smiling.

“Was thinking how nice you’d look naked and covered with Faith’s blood,” he whispered, knowing she’d be able to sense through the claim he was telling the truth.

B grinned and ducked her head as she flipped the end of her ponytail over her shoulder. He could feel she was pleased.

Faith halted beside a freshly dug grave. Buffy toed at the dirt.

“I think we have a customer,” she said. Spike could feel it too, a faint signature from a vampire stirring below the dirt. He pulled out his smokes, tapped the package against his palm, and removed a cig. Lighting it, he leaned against a tombstone as B and Faith stood over the grave.

“Doesn’t this make you feel bad?” Faith asked. “Killing your own kind?”

B snorted. “No, not remotely. I’m just hoping …” She glanced at the gravestone. “Marvin will give us a bit of a fight.”

“I hear that. I could use punching someone right about now.”

“It does feel good being out on patrol,” Buffy said.

Spike blew out a stream of smoke. “That’s the Slayer in you.”

“Hard to tell.” Buffy tugged at the hem of her skirt. “Too much has happened in too short of a time. I’m not settled at all. Being vamped, finding Spike…I still have to remind myself I don’t have to write that essay for English class anymore.”

“Or work on your tan,” Faith said, but her tone was light.

“God.” Buffy rolled her eyes. “I’m going to look like I’m goth no matter what I do.”

Faith laughed. “You’d rock some ripped fishnets, B, and I bet the old man wouldn’t mind.”

They both looked at him, and Spike shook his head. “Right fetching. But I’m biased.”

Faith turned back to the grave. “I wouldn’t want to go about it the same way, but what you two have, that’s cool. It gives me hope.”

“Hope?” B asked.

“Yeah, that no matter how weird or fucked up you are, there’s someone out there for everybody.”

Spike chuckled before raising his cig to take another drag. He paused with his hand halfway to his mouth. Heartbeats, approaching fast. “Soldiers,” he snapped, dropping his smoke and yanking a knife out of his pocket. His fangs dropped, and there was a snarl as his mate went into gameface as well.

Six commandos materialized from around crypts. No fear from Buffy, just determination.

“Hey, boys, want to play?” Faith asked, flipping them off. They didn’t reply.

Spike snarled, flashing his fangs. The soldier nearest to him paled. Good. With a yell, Spike charged the berk. The idiot threw his gun and turned and ran. Spike howled in triumph and gave chase as the soldier darted among the tombstones.

Spike leaped to the top of one headstone, jumped to the next, and tackled the soldier. He grabbed the radio from the tosser’s kit. The soldier screamed. “Don’t kill me, don’t kill me—”

The loser’s name tag said ‘Finn’.

“Don’t worry, Finn, not going to bother.” Spike shook off his demon. “So today’s your lucky day.”

A stab of fear came through the claim as Buffy screamed.

Finn’s begging suddenly turned to laughter. “It’s not yours. I did my duty. Got you to leave the others alone.”

Spike dropped Finn and spun, charging back towards his mate, stumbling as pain erupted across the claim. Then it dropped off, like she was asleep. Or unconscious. He reached the clearing in time to see a van pull up between rows of headstones and his unconscious mate being tossed into the back.

With a roar, he headed towards the vehicle, rage blinding him. The van’s engine started and there was a crack like it backfired as something hit his leg. Red hot pain lanced through his thigh and he nearly fell, but he caught himself on a headstone and kept going. Had to get to her.

“Buffy” he shouted as the door to the van closed. “Buffy!”

An open-top jeep stopped right behind the van and Finn, smirking, holstered a pistol and jumped into the back.

“Spike!” Faith yelled.

He whipped his head around. Faith was on the ground, dropped by the commando who’d been holding her as he rushed for the Jeep. She was bleeding profusely from her nose with one eye swollen shut.

Anger lashed through him. Stupid chit had let them take Buffy.

The jeep took off, and Spike tried to run after it, but his leg wasn’t working.

“Spike,” Faith said, now right beside him. “Wait, you can’t.”

He snapped his fangs at her.

His mate was gone. He had to get to her.

Buffy.

He shoved Faith away from him when she put her hand on his shoulder and tried to chase after the Jeep. His leg wouldn’t support him, and he went to his knees, but it didn’t matter.

He had to get to her.

Mate.

His mate.

He scrambled along on his hands and knees, ignoring the fiery pain in his leg.

Get to her. Get to her.

“For fuck’s sake, Spike, your leg’s broken.”

Get to her. Get to her.

“Stop!” Faith yelled, grabbing his shoulder again. He growled as he turned towards her. Tears were running down her face. “Stop!”

“Mate,” he ground out, wrenching himself free. He tried to stand but couldn’t. His leg wasn’t working at all. He crawled forward.

“Spike!” the Slayer said, putting her hand on him yet again. He’d kill her, cut her throat, drink her blood. That would fix him. He rounded on her, right as her fist smashed into his face.

Blackness swallowed him whole.


	18. Do You Have An Eraser?

He could feel her as he struggled towards consciousness. Buffy. She was hungry.

“I’m here,” Spike muttered. “Drink. You can drink, luv.”

“He’s awake,” a voice called. Not Buffy’s voice. Spike’s eyes snapped open. He wasn’t curled up with his mate. She wasn’t there, not close. He couldn’t see or smell her. Her friend—Willow—was standing over him and she was the one who’d spoken.

“Buffy!” he hollered at the top of his lungs, surging forward, only to find himself unable to move as pain stabbed through his thigh and chains clinked together as they tightened around him. “Buffy!”

“Shh, Spike,” Willow said, dropping to her knees and fluttering her hands over his chest. “She’s not here.”

His demon came forward, and he snarled as he fought the chains binding him. Willow hastily backed away. What the bleeding fuck was going on? He wildly glanced around, recognizing the Watcher’s bathroom. The bastard had Spike chained to the sodding tub.

It was wrong. Everything was wrong. He had to get out. Go to Buffy. She needed him. She was…frightened, angry, alone, and hungry. It was never supposed to be like that. Never. She’d mated herself to him so she’d never be alone and he was supposed to fill her up in every way possible. She was never supposed to feel empty.

He fought the restraints, but they didn’t give. He couldn’t be trapped. He yanked and twisted the chains.

“Stop,” Willow was saying. “Stop, you’re hurting yourself.”

There was blood on his wrists, but that didn’t matter…wait. Blood. He could chew through his wrist, free himself. He brought his arm to his mouth and pulled back his lips from his fangs.

A hand slammed into his head and pushed it against the side of the tub. Spike tried to get away, but the person behind the hand was too strong.

“I thought I told you to tie him tight,” Angel said as Giles and a few of the others crowded into the bathroom.

“I did,” Faith said from the doorway.

“Not tight enough,” Angel snapped. “The idiot was going to take off his own hand to get free.”

Giles knelt beside the tub. “Allow me.” The chains tightened, and Spike’s arm was yanked down to his side.

He glared at Angel. “What did you do with her?”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Bullshit! You’re working for the sodding bastards. You took her. You want her. My girl. She’s mine.” To his horror, Spike’s demon receded as he continued to babble. “Going to have her, are you? Like Dru. Want her all to yourself.” He twisted his head to the side, away from Angel’s hand, and pressed his cheek to the hard side of the tub. “My mate. My B.”

A sob escaped his chest. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this, but what did it matter, if Buffy wasn’t there?

“Uh, is he going to be okay?” Xander asked.

Angel sighed. “No, he’s separated from his mate. He’s not okay, and he can’t think straight.”

Mate.

Buffy!

The demon surged to the fore again, and Spike threw himself against the chains, growling and snarling.

Angel’s hands held him down until he sagged against the bottom of the tub.

“Quit, Willy,” Angel said. “Fuck. I had nothing to do with this. I didn’t know they were planning to take her.”

Spike glared at his mate’s sire. “Sure.”

“Um, you did kill her,” Willow said. She was perched on the closed lid of the toilet. “Why should we believe you now?”

Angel dragged a hand down his face. “Cordelia, go heat Spike some blood.”

“Oh, right, I get to play Betty Crocker for a vampire,” Cordelia said.

“Please,” Angel looked over his shoulder at the chit.

Cordy made a face but flounced off in the direction of the kitchen.

Angel locked gazes with Spike. “I did something wrong, something I can never fix, but this I can make right.”

****

Buffy woke, sore from where the soldiers had zapped her with their tasers. Who knew they had those? Or that they’d be so effective on vampires?

 _Spike?_ Bitch whined.

Buffy felt for the connection and found it intact.

“Spike?” she called. Hunger was gnawing at her middle. “Spike?” She sat up and blinked at the bright overhead lights.

Everything was white. The floor, the ceiling, the walls.

“There’s no Spike here,” a woman’s voice said.

Bitch took over, and B slid a tongue down her fangs as her eyes adjusted to the light. She could make out a middle-aged woman standing behind a pane of glass. The hallway outside was the same painful white.

The words didn’t make sense. Spike wasn’t there? She could feel him through the claim. He was…fear knotted inside her. He was hurt. Angry.

He wasn’t with her.

Any semblance of control snapped.

B snarled and ran at the pane of glass imprisoning her. She hit it as hard as she could, but it didn’t shatter. Instead, an intense pulse of electricity arced through her and sent her to her knees.

The woman laughed.

****

Spike knew he was a wreck, sobbing one minute and fighting to be free the next, but he couldn’t stop himself.

He was rage and despair.

The claim was new, and the magic was demanding he get to his mate. They weren’t meant to be apart.

Angelus' voice cut through the haze of emotions. “Drink.”

Spike growled.

“Drink it. When you get to Buffy, you’ll need to be full so you can feed her.”

Spike managed to focus his eyes. “Fine. Untie my arms and I’ll sodding drink it.”

Xander snorted. “Nice try.”

“Fuck off,” Spike snapped as panic started building again. Buffy was hurt and confused.

“Out,” Angelus said to Xander, and the boy left, muttering something under his breath.

Angelus leaned down. “Can you feel her, lad?”

“She needs me,” Spike muttered. “Hungry, alone, in pain.” He sucked in a breath before tilting his head back. “Buffy!” he screamed.

Snarling and vamped out, Angelus grabbed Spike by the hair. “Shut up.” He shoved a cup full of warm blood and a straw under Spike’s nose. “Eat. A bullet shattered your thigh bone, the best we can tell. This cup’s regular, but the next has some mojo Giles and Willow cooked up to help you heal. If you want to go after her, you have to be strong.”

Go after her. He had to go after her. Spike rattled the chains and whined.

“Quit being a baby,” Angelus said, letting go of Spike’s hair.

If he drank, he could go after her. Angel had said it. That didn’t make…Spike shook his head. Nothing was making sense. Logic and reason had merrily gone on holiday a while ago.

Go after her.

Spike eyed the straw for a moment, then clamped his lips around it and began to drink.

The instant the blood touched his tongue he was ravenous. Greedily, he sucked down the first cup in record time. Angel switched out the empty for the second one, which tasted off with herbs of some kind. The promised mojo.

Spike could feel it working quickly and grunted softly in pain as his bone knit itself together.

A third cup went down easy as well, though at the end he began feeling antsy. He fidgeted, making the chains clink.

“You’ll let me go to her, now, right? I did what you said.” Spike looked past Angel to the open door of the bathroom. “Feel better now. All better. Need Buffy.”

****

B knew she was insane.

She was snarling and snapping at the woman on the other side of the glass, who was watching her intently.

Buffy growled and slammed herself against the glass again, howling in pain and rage as she was thrown backward by the electrical charge.

Bitch was nothing but a howling mass of pain with no other thought except to get to their mate.

A male figure joined the woman.

“I think there’s something wrong with this one,” Walsh said, gesturing at Buffy. “The other vampires we’ve caught have tested the integrity of their cells as well, but only once. The electricity tends to make them stop. This one just keeps going.”

The man shrugged.

“I would like more speculation than that, Riley,” Walsh said. “What is its motivation?”

Riley shrugged again. “Maybe she’s hungry?”

“Still extreme.”

Buffy glared. She was hungry, but she needed Spike.

_Spike!_

She threw herself against the glass again, shrieking at the pain and the glass’ refusal to give way.

Walsh shook her head and went to a panel beside the doorway and tapped a couple of keys. There was a grating sound from overhead that made B stumble away instinctually and huddle against the rear wall of her cell. Something dropped from the ceiling and landed with a smack on the floor.

It didn’t move.

Cautiously, she stalked towards the object, finally picking up it up. It was a bag of blood.

Her stomach recoiled.

She threw the bag against the wall, where it opened and splattered across the white surface.

B turned away from it. It smelled disgusting and wrong.

The blood she drank came from her mate, while he made love to her, and she could taste his love and pleasure on her tongue.

“Maybe it’s because she was a Slayer?” Riley ventured, sounding less than sure.

Walsh was frowning. “I’m not sure that Slayers exist. All I see is a vampire. We heard rumors, and there were a couple of shady guys trying to find her. For all we know she owed them money. But it did make me very, very curious why anyone would want to hunt down one specific demon.” She studied B, then, speaking slowly and enunciating clearly, she said. “Why did you not drink the blood?”

B didn’t even bother responding. She charged the glass again, making the woman flinch.

****

Spike was writhing in his chains.

“She’s hurting, and she’s hungry. Buffy! Buffy!”

Giles gave him a withering glance. Everyone was squished into the bathroom, trying to figure out a way to rescue Buffy.  

“He can’t help it,” Angel said. “We don’t have much time to plan. They’ll kill themselves trying to get to each other.”

Spike was bleeding again. Bleeding for her. Supposed to be with her. Feed her. “Buffy!”

Xander had his hands over his ears. “Is there a plan?”

“Look,” Angel said. “The contingent of soldiers here is small. There’s only a few cells and offices that are up and running, along with the area where they put the chip in my head. They’d be easy to manage if taken by surprise, but you have to get the box that controls my chip. I don’t know everything they can do with it.”

“That’s my job,” Faith said.

Angel nodded.

“No,” Spike snarled.

Willow frowned. “Why not.”

“Rescuing her is my business, not the job of someone who killed her and someone who would like to.”

Faith rolled her eyes. “Cool it, Romeo, I don’t want to kill her.”

“You’re a Slayer!”

“I hadn’t forgotten, but okay, sure. I want to kill B because it’s in my nature to do so, but I can still think and reason, and I know she’s not a threat to most people, so I won’t.”

Spike glared.

“If looks could snap necks,” Xander muttered.

“So Faith and I go in—” Angel started.

“Not without me,” Spike said.

Angel looked at him for a long time. “Can you stop yourself from killing the soldiers?”

“Unless they’re trying to kill Buffy.” Spike didn’t actually know that. Didn’t actually care, either. But he’d do or say anything to be set free and permitted to go after B.

Angel nodded once.

“Me too,” Willow said.

“I’m going as well,” Giles added. “She’s my Slayer. I can’t simply leave her.”

“We’re all going.” Xander was pale but determined looking.

“Count me in,” Oz said. “I wouldn’t want to be stuck in that place.”

Cordelia groaned. “Fine, me too.”

Everyone glanced at each other, then they all stared at Angel. Spike was trying to focus, trying to ignore the pounding of the drum in his skull that insisted he go to his mate now, now, now, now.

“How do we get in?” Faith asked.

“The Initiative will be calling me back soon,” Angel said. “I go in through a door they unlock automatically and down to where the base is under the university.”

“It’s under the university?” Willow squeaked. “But that’s a place for learning.”

Oz grabbed her hand. “Some people have no respect for higher education.”

“Are we going now?” Spike asked tersely.

****

Buffy wasn’t doing well.

She was wobbling on her feet, but still trying to get out. 

Walsh and Riley continued to watch her, Walsh occasionally making notations on a clipboard.

Buffy tossed herself against the glass again, clumsy now from the electricity sapping her energy. She ended up smashing her face into the unyielding glass and blood filled her mouth as her fangs sliced through her tongue.

She spat it at the idiots watching her, and it streaked down the glass.

Both looked disgusted. Good.

She reached out a finger and wrote “Fuck you” in the mess.

“That’s…interesting,” Walsh said, making a note.

Riley approached the cell. “Can you understand me?” he asked loudly.

B rolled her eyes. “Duh.”

“Then why are you doing this? Stop.”

She hurled herself against the glass again, and Riley cringed. B laughed, showing him her blood coated fangs.

“You’re hurting yourself,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “There are wounds on your hands and face and…just…stop.”

Walsh huffed. “Let it do what it wants.”

Buffy held up her hands. She was so numb from the electricity she hadn’t even realized she was burned. Quickly she checked her hair. While she’d lost her ponytail holder at some point, her hair didn’t feel like it was singed, just a little fluffier than normal.

She took a deep breath. Through the claim, she could feel Spike surging with despair, panic, and anger. He was trying to get to her, she just knew it.

“My mate will save me,” she said, before renewing her attack on the glass. “He’ll kill all of you.”

Walsh frowned at Riley, but then walked to the buttons beside B’s cell door again, tapping at them before coming to stand in front of the cell, just to the side of the drying blood spatter. She looked at B like she was something Walsh wanted to dissect.

“Uh, maybe we should call Angel back, ask him about her,” Riley said.

“Later.” Walsh waved a hand. “I need to log the data I have first. Bring him in immediately after sunset tomorrow.” She sighed. “No one is coming to get you,” she said to B. “No one knows where you are. You will die here, alone.” She turned on her heel as Buffy launched herself at the glass.

This time, when she hit, the surge of electricity was much stronger. Pain ripped through every nerve in her body. She screamed as the floor rushed up to meet her.

****

Spike howled as he felt a rush of pain through the claim, followed by his girl going unconscious.

“Can you make him shut up?” Xander asked.

Angel rubbed at his temple. “Yeah.” He focused on Spike. “Sorry, boyo.”

Angel drew his fist back, and Spike roared in protest as Angel aimed for his temple.

“You promised, find her, find Buffy,” Spike babbled.

Angel’s jaw clenched.

Spike was almost grateful as he followed his mate into darkness.

****

Angel shook out his fist. “Sorry,” he said to a knocked-out Spike. He looked up at Faith. “You know we’re going to have to keep him trussed up while we’re moving, to keep him from running off until we reach the Initiative.”

“Yeah,” she grunted and walked off, her face troubled. Angel had no idea why seeing Spike at the end of his rope and unable to fight his instincts upset her so much. It was just demons and magic. Not something a Slayer should be concerned about except to eradicate. Angel raked a hand through his hair. Maybe it was just the delay. The waiting was getting on everyone’s nerves and it was starting to get close to sunrise.

Angel stood and went to lean against the counter beside Giles, who’d been keeping close to Spike, most likely because if anything really bad happened to Buffy, Spike would be the first to know.

 “I don’t think they’re going to call me back until tomorrow,” Angel said. “Faith or I might have to keep knocking him out.”

Giles pulled off his glasses and took a washcloth from a hook to clean them. “Needs must.”

“This is a—”

“Stop,” Giles said quietly. “I don’t want to hear any more from you. You killed my girlfriend. You killed my Slayer. I’m simply unable to spare any more patience for you.”

The Watcher left the bathroom.

Angel stood, guilt catching in his throat as he stared at Dru’s annoying puppy, who was awkwardly positioned in the tub. Spike looked like hell.

And he wasn’t Dru’s anything any longer. The claim would have severed that connection, the same as it’d cut Angel’s sire-bond with Buffy. Spike and Buffy were an island unto themselves now.

He didn’t know quite how he felt about that.

Hesitantly, he rearranged Spike’s limbs and neck into something that looked more comfortable. Willow peeked in and came back with a pillow she put under Spike’s head.

She patted Spike’s hand. “We’ll get Buffy back,” she soothed before straightening up and turning towards Angel. “I, um, am nervous baking. There’s going to be cookies soon if you want them.”

Angel nodded, and Willow left.

After a few more moments, he turned and followed her. He wasn’t much of one for baked goods, or human food period, but anything would be better than being alone with his thoughts.  


	19. Can I Follow You Home?

Bitch could only feel the faintest threads of the connection to her mate. He wasn’t conscious. That terrified her. She needed to get to him. Help him.

“Spike,” she croaked, her throat parched.

Her fingers twitched, but she was so tired. The sun must be high in the sky. It was all too much, and she sank into slumber, huddled cold and alone on the floor of her cell.

****

Night was fast approaching. Angel could feel the sun sliding towards the horizon.

Finally.

In the tub, Spike was unconscious. After the third time Faith had put his lights out, Giles and Willow had come up with a spell to keep him out until nightfall. They’d infused the magic into herbs, but Angel had been the one to force Spike to drink it. He’d had to. Spike had wanted to stay awake, monitoring the bond between him and Buffy. He’d reported her sleeping midmorning, but he’d not been able to control himself, even knowing she wasn’t being hurt. He’d fought the chains and Angel had no doubt that, set free, Spike would run straight out the door into the sunlight trying to get to Buffy.

Buffy was never going to forgive the things Angel had done to her, but if he let her mate die, there was no hope she’d ever even tolerate his presence.

Though Spike would simply be gone. Angel could probably claim it was an accident. Chains not secured well enough, perhaps.

Buffy would need her sire.

Angel rubbed at his temples.

It wouldn’t be right. Without Spike, Buffy would lose control, become a feral animal that’d slaughter her friends and family. Everyone she’d protected as the Slayer.

There was also a good chance that the grief would do more than steal her mind. There was a good chance she’d follow Spike into dust.

Angel sighed and shifted on the closed toilet lid he was sitting on while he awaited Spike’s return to consciousness.

Guilt was eating at Angel. He hadn’t meant to do…any of this. For a split second Angelus had taken over when the scent of Buffy’s blood had hit the air, but that’d been all it’d taken for him to empty her body. She’d loved and trusted him, and now that was ash.

Why couldn’t she have been Angel’s mate? Though imagining what a female version of Angelus would be like, Angel shuddered.

No, better it was William and his poet’s heart she was linked to. Buffy had always believed in true love and all that nonsense anyway. Even a demon version of her wanted more than Angel knew how to give.

And there was the knowledge that the best thing to do, since he couldn’t fix his error, was to reunite Buffy and Spike and then for Angel to leave. Maybe to L.A. It was a city that was easy to get lost in and there was a lot of clear cut evil for him to fight there. He could forget Buffy, forget Spike, and work towards being a better version of himself. Buffy had ignited that spark inside him, and in her honor, he should work on letting it grow.

It was still tempting to let Spike dust.

The sun set, and the chains clinked as Spike awoke. He took a shaky breath, then hollered, “Buffy!”

“Sleeping beauty’s awake,” Xander said in the living room. There was the sound of the others gathering their gear.

Pain blared through Angel’s skull and made him grit his teeth. He was being called by the Initiative.

Giles walked into the bathroom. “Anything?”

“They want me,” Angel said. He really didn’t know a lot about the chip. Could the soldiers track it? If he couldn’t return, would they come looking for him?

There was another blinding wave of pain. Or would they just keep amping up the torment until his brain ran out his nose?

Spike was fighting the chains and sobbing.

Giles sighed. “Are you sure you can control him?”

“Not entirely, but I’m going to try. He should quiet down once he’s heading towards his mate.”

“Spike,” Giles said, kneeling beside the tub. “Can you still sense her? Is Buffy alright.”

Spike lunged towards Giles and snapped his fangs at him. Giles scrambled backwards with a yelp.

Angel casually smacked Spike upside his head. “Answer, Willie, is your mate alive?”

“She’s hungry,” Spike snarled.

“We’re going to get her now,” Angel said. He turned to Giles. “Get the others ready and out front, I’ll bring the attack dog.”

Giles nodded and hauled himself to his feet, leaving the bathroom with a worried look on his face.

Gingerly, Angel adjusted the chains, pinning Spike’s arms to his side and leaving a length for Angel to keep hold of. Spike didn’t fight, just glared and kept repeating that his mate was hungry. Angel murmured softly, like he would to a spooked horse, telling Spike they were going to get his mate and that Spike would be able to feed her soon.

Angel just knew that when Spike was back to himself he was going to be put out about the treatment his duster had endured in the last twenty-four hours.

The instant Spike’s feet were unbound, he was moving, leaping out of the tub and rushing for the door. Angel was barely able to check him with the chain, sending him crashing to the floor. Spike howled in protest, already fighting to get away again as Angel grabbed his collar and set him back on his feet.

It was difficult to guide Spike out of the house as he lunged and roared against his restraints.  

The others stared wide-eyed as Angel followed him out the door.

“Let’s go,” Angel said tersely. “This isn’t going to get any easier.”

****

Buffy woke and sat upright.

She was still alone with hunger clawing at her.

Through the claim she could feel Spike fighting to reach her. She whimpered and wrapped her arms around her knees. It was hope, but she was weak, too new to go without blood for so long.

 _Spike?_ Bitch asked, and Buffy started crying _. Go to him_ , Bitch urged. _He’ll make it better_. When Buffy didn’t move, Bitch flooded her mind with pornography. Some of it was very creative. Buffy’s tears fell faster. She managed to get to her hands and knees and crawl towards the glass. Reaching for it, she snatched her hand back when she could feel the electricity crackling through the barrier.

“Hey,” a voice said.

Buffy didn’t respond.

“Hi.” The owner of the voice sat down on the other side of the glass. She remembered him, the soldier that’d stood there with Walsh, Finn. “You want to eat?”

Buffy shook her head and wiped at her tears. She hated looking so weak in front of one of her captors.

“Come on, you’ve got to eat.” His voice dropped. “Walsh wants to find out what’s different about you. She’s got you scheduled to be on the table later tonight. If you don’t eat, you don’t heal.”

On the table? That didn’t sound good. “You don’t understand,” Buffy said, having to stop herself from pawing at the glass again.

“What don’t I understand?”

She fixed her eyes on Finn’s face. “I don’t kill humans to eat. I drink from my mate, he’s not killing either.”

Finn frowned. “You don’t hurt humans?”

“Not unless they deserve it.”

Finn shifted uncomfortably.

Buffy didn’t take her eyes off him as she changed her face to that of the demon.

Through the claim she could feel Spike continuing to fight. But also…he was getting closer. Her entire body trembled. She looked towards her left. Somewhere there.

“Try to keep it together, later, alright,” Finn was saying. “Walsh tends to…do more when subjects fight on the table. She likes testing limits.”

“You could just leave,” Buffy said, continuing to stare unblinking at the end of the corridor. “If you don’t agree with what they’re doing here.”

“I can’t, actually. Military assignment. And we’re trying to stop demons. That’s a good thing.”

“You’re just following orders, right?” she said softly. Though part of her, probably the Slayer part, agreed that stopping demons usually was a good thing. But not like this. Not with torture.

Finn sighed. “Look, listen to me, alright? Do what I say…” His words died as the entire hallway was plunged into darkness. A second later red emergency lighting flickered on.

B smiled. Spike was coming for her. The hum of electricity through the glass was absent this time when she reached for it. She scrambled to her feet and Finn did the same. Gathering what strength she had left, Buffy slammed her fists into the glass.

“I-I-I should go ch-ch-check,” Finn stammered, backing away from her.

“Evacuate, evacuate, evacuate,” an automated voice boomed out as sirens started to wail. A strobing orange light joined the red. “Evacuate, evacuate, evacuate.”

There was a click and the cell doors slid open up and down the hall. B stepped out. She tilted her head as she looked at Riley and smiled. “Run.”

The soldier turned and fled towards the left, where the huge containment doors were creaking open. Buffy’s head snapped up as her mate strode through them. Joy pulsed through her like a heartbeat. Bitch was quivering with ecstasy.

 Finn didn’t have time to react before Spike picked him up and smashed him into a wall where he slid to the floor, unmoving.

Spike striding towards her was the most wonderous thing she’d ever seen. He was vamped out and blood spattered. And hers, hers, hers. She wanted to run to him, but her legs were too weak. It didn’t matter. In seconds he was right there, his palm cupping her cheek.

“Did they hurt you?” he rasped.

“Not yet.”

His mouth crashed into hers and she found her back slammed into the wall. She was high on him, crying out her relief at the feeling of his lips and tongue.  

He broke the kiss, turning his head and tilting up his chin. “Drink.”

She pressed a messy kiss to his neck before sinking her fangs in. Blood poured into her throat and bliss erupted through the claim. Oh god, she was home. She was safe. Her mate. Hers.

Her hips surged forward as she ground herself against the hard line of Spike’s cock. He moaned and braced one hand on the wall while the other tangled in her hair as he wildly humped against her.

Seconds later she was coming, crying out her pleasure with her fangs still in Spike’s neck. The orgasm washed through her, blessed relief after having been away from her mate.

Spike snarled. His hips jerked hard against her as he peaked.

It wasn’t enough.

“Are you two done?” Angel’s voice asked from very far away.

Hardly.

Buffy pushed Spike’s duster from his shoulders and the leather dropped to the ground. She finally released his neck, the ache in her middle sated for the moment. A trickle of dark blood ran down his neck, soaking the collar of his t-shirt.

“Missed you,” he panted. “B…need you, luv.” He kissed her, his tongue invaded her mouth and stroked her fangs.

Her palms slid across his back and the fact that she could feel the fabric of his shirt and not his skin was blasphemy. Hooking her claws into the material she shredded it and pulled the remains away from him. Beneath her fingers his muscles rippled as she traced every inch of him she could reach. When his jeans got in the way, she whimpered, and Spike let go of her to step back.

His caught the top of his jeans and she bit her lip in anticipation, but then he glanced up at her and his yellow eyes went from glinting to utterly confused. Spike tilted his head to the side and whined, but she didn’t know what was wrong until he pounced at her and grabbed the front of her shirt. It and her bra were gone a second later and he was bent over and nuzzling her breasts.

Her jeans quickly met the same fate, though, somehow, she still had her sneakers on.

There was an exasperated sigh off to their left, which she ignored in favor of reveling in the feel of her mate’s hands on her body.

Joy was roaring in her mind. Bitch was chanting _Spike_. And the entire world was perfect.

Spike turned her around in his arms and sank to the ground. She braced herself on her hands and knees, spreading her legs and pushing her rear back in blatant invitation. Spike’s fingers traced down her spine and outlined her hips.

His hands left her and there was the loud noise of his zipper lowering. It was one of her favorite sounds in existence and a fresh wave of desire hit her. She was wet and aching.

Spike pushed inside her, and she cried out. The stretch of her inner muscles around his cock was a welcome ache. B rocked up and back, desperate for him to fuck her. Grabbing her hips, his claws tightened, bright points of delicious pain that highlighted the ache of her lust.

“Spike,” she gasped.

He jerked back and then forward, circling his hips when he was as deep as possible.

Her vision whited out. Her mate. Love vaster than any ocean was sharing space inside her with more desire than she knew what to do with. She growled in frustration, squeezing her inner muscles around his still unmoving cock.

Shifting her weight to one hand, she bit of two of her claws off before rubbed her clit, snarling at the pleasure. Her back arched and Spike’s claws clenched, sending a fresh wave of bright pain through her, and she fell into another orgasm, her pussy pulsing around the hard shaft in it.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous,” Spike rasped. Her body was still quaking with pleasure as Spike’s hands left her hips. They grabbed her arms and yanked them behind her, and he pinned her wrists together with one hand and the other closed around her throat, holding her up. Blood from where his claws had been buried was leaking down her thighs to drip onto the concrete.

She would have blacked out if she’d been human from his grip on her neck, but not needing to breathe had its advantages. B slid one leg back to hook around Spike’s leg as he licked up her back. It was enough leverage she could roll her hips.

Finally, Spike began thrusting. Each stroke was impossibly deep and she would have cried out if she’d been able to. He sped up, frantically ramming his cock inside her. Her eyelids fluttered as she raced towards another climax.

“Hey!” Faith’s voice said, sounding like she was a million miles away. “I got the box. You should see all the options. I’m going to be able to make you…holy fucking shit!”

There was a sigh. “They’re mates that were separated. I’m trying not to look.” Angel sounded completely exasperated.

“You should look. It’s really impressive. And kind of bloody. Is vamp sex always like that?”

“Ah—” There was a shuffling sound. “Not exactly.”

“Darn.”

Anything further was lost as B peaked. She stiffened, then undulated wildly as the pulses of pleasure flooded her with bliss. Spike’s cock was still ramming into her, the feel of its determined thrusts wringing every bit of ecstasy from her.

Pulling a hand free from his grasp, she sank her claws into his forearm and yanked his hand from her around her neck. His other arm snaked around her to hold her in place. She ran her tongue over his wrist, purring at being so full of her mate. Baring her fangs, she sank them into his arm.

Spike cried out as she sucked hard at his blood. She tore free and bit again, drinking greedily as the blood ran down her chin.

B was in paradise.

Clutching her middle tighter, Spike grunted loudly before snapping his hips forward and driving himself deep into her as he came. His cock pulsed as he flooded her with come, the scent hitting her as it leaked from around where they were joined.

His hips jerked a few more times, then he pulled out for her, standing and spinning her to face him. She whimpered at the loss of intimate contact, but he pulled her against his chest and she snuggled against him.

“I’m sorry—” she started, but Spike cut her off.

“No, I’m the one that’s sorry. I couldn’t save you. Starving, alone…and I was adrift, so desperate to get to you I couldn’t think.”

“Then how did you get here?”

He waved a hand to the side and she looked over to see Faith and Angel, their backs turned towards Buffy and Spike.

“Your friends saved us,” he said.

“Do you think you could get dressed now?” Angel said tersely. Faith peeked over her shoulder and grinned, making B scowl. Faith rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the box in her hands.

“Never leave me again,” Spike whispered. His demon faded, and hers receded as well.

“Never.” She shook her head and pressed her lips to his. “You are my world.”

Spike pulled up his pants and fastened them, but Buffy’s clothes were in tatters. Spike retrieved his duster and held it open in invitation. It was comforting as he slid it around her shoulders.

His eyes were dreamy as he smiled at her and she ducked her head.

Angel gave an exasperated sigh.

Faith pressed a button and Angel yipped, lifting a hand to his temple.

“Play nice,” Faith admonished.

Angel frowned at her and stomped off towards where the emergency door was jammed open.

As they passed Riley’s still form, he groaned, and Buffy dropped to a knee beside him. She could hear his heart pulsing fast, but regularly. She ghosted her fingers over his cheek and his eyes snapped open.

“I want to kill you,” B whispered. “I want to tear your heart out of your chest and eat it while it’s still beating.”

“I’d shove it up is arse,” Spike muttered.

Riley’s pulse increased, and he tried to push himself tighter against the wall. He stank of fear.

B patted his head. “But I’m not going to. Like I said, I don’t kill humans, but we can’t leave you here.”

“Still some nasty beasties down here that can’t figure out the lift.” Spike had pulled his lighter out and was flipping the top open and closed.

Faith shoved the control box into her pocket. “I got him.” She grabbed Riley’s arm and pulled him to his feet. He screamed and snatched his arm back, cradling it against his chest. “Stop being a baby,” Faith snapped. “It’s just a fracture.”

Spike chuckled.

Faith kept Riley upright as they made their way to the elevator and back to the top of the facility.

Once they were outside, B spun around, laughing as the night air flowed over her.

Faith hauled Riley over to Giles, and Angel trotted along behind her.

“I’m going to take Buffy home,” Spike called towards them.

B patted his arm. She hurried over to the group. “Thank you,” she said, hugging a flustered looking Willow.

“Buffy, you’re naked!” she squeaked, glancing down where Spike’s duster had gaped open.

B grinned. “Spike tore all my clothes off!”

“You should have seen them,” Faith said. “It was all—”

“Yes, er, I’m sure they were quite glad to be back together.” Giles yanked his glasses off his face.

“I helped.” Cordelia held up the shotgun she was holding. “But I broke a nail. Now I’m going to be stuck getting it redone tomorrow.”

Xander made a face. “And we all appreciate your sacrifice.”

B let Willow go, pulled the duster tighter around her, then hugged Cordy. “Thank you.”

Cordelia briefly hugged her back.

“Better go back to your mate,” Angel said. “He looks ready to gut us.”

Buffy waved at her friends, then hastened back to a where Spike was standing. He was growling faintly, until he put his arm around her shoulders.

“Be safe,” Oz called.

“No worries,” Spike said. “We’re going to lay low for a day or two. Trust me, no one’s taking B again.”

The others nodded.

Spike directed her away from the group, but she glanced back when there was a thud. It was only Riley, pale and drawn, having sat down hard on the ground. Nothing important.

“Crypt?” she said to Spike, and he nodded.

“I need you all to myself.”

B preened. “Ditto.”


	20. Are You Cinderella?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for more D/s if that's not your cuppa.

Spike refused to let go of B’s hand. Her demon was visible, so his was as well.

Christ, she was as cute as a button.

He wanted to fuck her again, hear her scream, taste her blood and her cream, hold her and never let her go.

Making it all ten times better was the claim. Through it, he could feel her absolute elation. And that she was returning his lust. Spike reveled in how wanted he felt. It was still amazing it was her. The one who was supposed to be his greatest enemy. The one with a divine mission to slay him and his kind. But Buffy the Vampire Slayer was now Buffy the vampire, and his mate. His universe. His home.

That she was bloody adorable was the icing on the cake.

He wanted to come on her tits, her face, her ass, her shoulders, her belly, her thighs…paint her in come to declare her his.

“We’re almost there,” B said, glancing at him from under her lashes.

He grinned and tongued one of his fangs. “Can’t wait.”

She glanced around the cemetery, and her shoulders slumped. “I think we should. I feel too exposed out here.”

“Right.” Damn it.

He picked up the pace and made a beeline for the crypt.

At the door he stopped and held up a hand, listening. B was silent behind him. He heard nothing and pushed the door open. Footfalls making no noise, they stalked inside, halting just inside the door. No new scents met his nose, and he glanced at B. She relaxed but was obviously waiting for him to take the lead.

He liked that.

“We’re good. No one, human or demon, has been here,” he said.

B nodded.

And dropped his duster to the floor.

He was across the room and pulling her to him immediately. Her breasts were smashed against his chest as their mouths met, fangs clicking in their haste.

B whimpered, and her claws scratched at his chest. He stepped back, and she tried to follow him, but he stopped her with a hand. B growled in protest, and the sound sent a whole series of emotions tumbling through him.

He could have lost her.

B could have been his for a moment and then simply gone.

She hadn’t actually done anything wrong, but the instinct to show her how very much she was his was blaring like a siren in his brain.

“You can never leave me again,” he snarled. B immediately stopped growling, and she lowered her head.

Oh, thank god, she’d picked up on his intent. The claim might have helped, but all he was getting from her was lust. Maybe, on her end, she could pick up on his need for dominance at the moment, or maybe she, or her demon, was simply able to read the situation. Whatever the reason, the result was the same. She was playing along.

“I’m sorry, sir,” B said, her eyes still on the ground.

“Take your shoes and socks off.”

She did, setting them to the side, as he watched and considered how he wanted her and what he wanted to do with her.

It was a might difficult when his demon was roaring ‘everything,’ and his cock was at full attention and pushing against his zip.

He prowled around her as she stood with her head bowed. New threads wound their way into the claim from B. Anticipation, and something that it took him longer to parse out. She wanted this, wanted to be punished, even though the separation was hardly her fault.

Spike halted in front of B and put a hand on her shoulder. “Look at me,” he said softly. Her gaze met his. “I’m not mad at you. You’re blameless.” She whined softly. “I know you don’t feel that way, but you’re always like that, aren’t you? No matter what rubbish thing happens, to you, your family, your friends…the weight settles on your shoulders.” B’s eyes returned to the floor. “It’s okay, pet. Spike’s got you. I’ll give you what you need because I need it too. I need B, and Buffy, and Bitch, to be mine.” The tips of his claws dug into her shoulder. “Do you remember the safe word?”

“Wheelchair,” she breathed.

“Good girl.”

He understood her, probably better than she did herself at the moment. She wanted the violence, with the demon egging her on, but it was afterward, when all would be forgiven, and he’d take care of her, that she needed just as badly. Complicated little minx, his girl was.

“Love you,” he whispered.

B smiled. “I love you, too…sir.”

He walked behind her and settled a hand on the nape of her neck. His eyes tracked down the arch of her spine to the curves of her hips and ass. He tightened his hold and pushed her roughly over to the wall.

“Lean over and brace your hands.” He let go of her and stepped back.

She did, presenting her rear and glistening pussy to him.

“I can smell how aroused you are,” he said, trailing a finger down the cheek of her ass. “And I can smell that I fucked you not very long ago. I can see my come leaking out of your cunt.”

B moaned and rolled her hips.

“It’s a pretty sight. Makes my prick ache. But why did I have to fuck you on a hard tile floor next to a glass-fronted cell?”

“Because I was captured, sir.”

“You were. It drove me mad. Couldn’t think of anything but getting to you. Nothing besides finding you and putting my cock in your pussy, or mouth, or ass. You are mine. And you left me. Can’t let that go unpunished.”

Spike moved to stand alongside her, one hand on the wall and the other caressing her ass.

“I’m going to spank you now,” he said evenly. “Twenty-seven times. One for each hour I was without you.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, her voice shaking, but he could feel the excitement roiling through the claim. He grinned. Wasn’t that neat?

“You’re going to count.” He didn’t give her time to reply before he slapped his hand against her rear.

“One,” B said, breathless.

Spike grinned. He soothed her ass with a caress, then smacked her again.

“Two.”

He continued, B counting each spank until they reached twelve. Her rear was red from his hand, and B was breathing hard and rolling her hips. She was close to coming. Which was delightful. Her pussy was wet enough that juice was rolling down her thighs.

He bent over. “Don’t come,” he growled in her ear.

She whimpered and rocked her hips. “Please.”

“This is punishment.” The fingers of the hand he had on her ass flexed and drove his claws into her. She cried out in pain even as a flash of pleasure rippled through the claim. But she didn’t come.

Spike retracted his claws and admired how blood trickled down her rear and leg.

“Stay there,” he ordered and adjusted his cock in his jeans before striding to the sarcophagus with their purloined supplies in it. He found the remnants of the coconut lotion from before, but there was nothing to use as a paddle or whip. Sighing, he undid his belt.

“Since my hand only made you wetter, let’s try this.” He slapped his folded over belt against his palm and B jumped. There was another, more cautious, surge of anticipation through the claim.

Perfect.

He positioned himself beside her again and smacked the belt sharply against where her ass met her thigh.

B gave a moaning little cry. “Thirteen.”

It was delicious.

“I was chained to the fuckin’ tub, luv. They kept having to put my lights out during the day.”

B whimpered.

He spanked her ass, the blood making the sound louder.

“Fourteen.”

“If you come before I tell you to, I’ll drag you to your Watcher’s flat and give you the same honor.”

She shook her head.

“Good girl.”

He brought the belt down three times in quick succession.

B counted, her body undulating.

She had to be fighting to keep from peaking. Because he’d told her no.

Spike fisted her hair. “Ten more, but I think this is a good time for a little interruption. Can you smell how my prick is leaking? I’m so fucking hard.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

Using the hand in her hair, he dragged her away from the wall. “Kneel, and lose the fangs.”

She did as told, her wide eyes, dark in the crypt’s shadows, staring up at him.

He caressed her face. “Undo my jeans.”

She popped the button and pulled the zip down.

“Bring my cock out.”

She pushed his jeans off his hips and down far enough to let his prick bob freely in front of her. He wrapped a hand around it as he rubbed the thumb of his other hand over her lower lip. Using just a little pressure on her chin, he opened her mouth.

Sheer joy was rolling through the claim.

“Who would have ever imagined Buffy Summers, on her knees and wanting the big bad’s cock shoved in her mouth. Lick the tip.”

Her pink tongue darted out and lapped at the precum that was glistening on the end of his prick.

Spike shuddered. “Going to fuck your face now.”

Holding her head steady with his hands, he thrust his hips forward. She closed her lips around his cock and eagerly sucked as he slid himself in and out of her mouth. Her tongue was steadily moving against the underside of his cock while her eyes remained fixed on his face.

“You like this?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“Yeh,” B said around his prick.

He growled softly and thrust faster.

B moaned.

“Don’t fucking come,” he gasped.

She went still, even as he continued humping her face.

His belly was in a knot and the muscles in his legs tense as he neared completion. B looked so lovely with her lips tight around his prick and her hair wrapped in his fist.

God, he would have sold his soul ten times over just for this moment.

A few last plunges, and he grunted as he came. The relief was magnificent.

Buffy swallowed rapidly, drinking his come down as his cock pulsed in her mouth.

Spent, he pushed her back. “Return to the wall.”

She rose and did as asked. Spike retrieved the belt and lotion. Standing behind her, he swept a finger up her wet pussy to circle her asshole.

“Just one hole left.”

He pressed his fingers against her clit, which was swollen and needy, and smiled as she gave something close to a sob.

“Please,” she said, voice catching as he removed his hand.

“No, and don’t ask again or you won’t for the rest of the night.”

“I need—”

“I know, pet, I can bloody feel it through the claim. Just as you could feel how much pleasure your mouth gave me. Do what I say, and it’ll be okay. You just have to take your punishment first.”

“I was bad,” she said in a small voice.

“Very bad,” he agreed.

“Never again. I’ll never do it again. Never leave.”

“I know, lamb.” He traced down her spine. “I know. Now tell me what you want.”

****

B bit her lip. What she wanted? Hadn’t she just told him? Her entire body was one frustrated knot of need. Her fangs slid into place as Bitch wove herself into Buffy’s consciousness.

 _You know what you want_ , Bitch whispered.

 _That’s what you want_ , Buffy countered.

_I am you._

Hard to argue that one.

“Sir…” she started, paused, and tried again. “Sir, a want your dick inside me. In my ass. While you finish my punishment.”

“Is that all?” the tone was teasing.

“And I want to come, sir.”

“How many more times do I need to hit you?”

“Ten, sir.”

“On the last stoke, the tenth, you can come.”

“Thank you, sir.”

How was she supposed to hold out that long?

 _You have to_ , Bitch declared. _Tub bad. No Spike!_

_He wouldn’t really—_

_Tub bad._

_Fine._

She’d last so she could sleep in his arms.

Her clit was aching, her butt was raw, and her jaw hurt from how she’d been holding it open.

But somehow, she’d last and do as she’d been told.

Through the claim, she could feel Spike’s enjoyment of what they were doing, and new sparks of lust. Vampire refractory times were the best. She rolled her hips. Spike chuckled and squeezed a bottle, the scent of coconuts hit the air. B inhaled deeply. For the rest of forever, anything tropical scented was always going to make her horny.

Her nipples were tingling.

“May I touch my breasts, sir?” she asked.

“One hand.”

She grabbed a breast and kneaded it before pinching the tip hard. That was better. She switched to the other side.

Spike dumped some of the lotion at the top of her ass and stroked with his fingers down between her cheeks.

Yes, yes, yes.

“You’re mine,” he said, voice low and gentle as he pushed a finger into her ass.

Was she ever his. Something clicked into place inside her, and she relaxed into his touch.

“There’s a girl,” Spike said as a second finger joined the first. “I can feel you letting go. I’m going to put my prick in your ass real soon, fuck you while I spank you, and you’re going to come on the tenth blow. I want you to count down from ten this time, alright?”

She hummed an agreement. It all sounded so easy. Her mate would take care of her.

 _Safe_ , Bitch said happily. And Buffy smiled. She was always safe with her mate. He’d make sure she had what she needed. And she’d be there for him, come what may.

 _No more away_ , Bitch whined.

 _Never_ , Buffy said soothingly to her demon. _Never apart. B and Spike together until the hills are all nothing but sand._

Spike pulled his fingers from her, and they were replaced with the head of his cock. He grunted and pushed inside her, no more than an inch. It hurt; it was wonderful. She mewled and wiggled, wanting more.

Slowly, he thrust all the way into her ass. He paused, and she groaned in delight. A tiny corner of her mind reminded her this wasn’t what Buffy, the high school student, would have done.

“I’m a bad girl,” she said.

“For liking this?” Spike asked. “Or for leaving me?”

“Yes,” she panted. Both.

He chuckled. “As I’ve told you, what we do together is sacred. You’re supposed to like it. I’d be worried if you didn’t. And you’re being punished for the other.”

She thought about arguing with him, or telling him no, even though she was happy with his cock inside her. Though the lie would be apparent through the claim. And she trusted her mate. He was going to make things perfect.

Spike slid his cock back a few inches and thrust home again.

She moaned softly. Every part of her was sensitive from how badly she needed to come. B did her best to turn her mind completely off and allow Spike to do what he did best.

He started moving rhythmically, the lotion letting him glide in and out of her ass smoothly.

“You look so lovely like this,” he said. “And you feel so good.” She smiled at the praise.

There was a sound, and she glanced towards their feet, seeing the belt lying on the floor. Spike’s hand caressed her ass, and her eyes closed again as she palmed her breast.

His palm slapped her rear, the sound loud and the pain sending a jolt of pleasure to her clit.

“Ten,” she said.

He was fucking her faster now.

His hand hit again, with another powerful bolt of bliss making her writhe.

“Nine.”

His smacks sped up.

“Eight, seven, six, five.” She moaned loudly. Her body was his.

Her heart was his.

“Four.”

Her demon was his.

“Three.”

Her mind was his.

“Two.”

Her pleasure was his.

“One.”

The blow landed, hard on her ass cheek, and she couldn’t make a sound as ecstasy rolled through her. B was shaking, and her knees gave out as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed from her between her legs. Her vision was gone. Spike’s strong arm wrapped around her middle. His cock was no longer in her ass, and he picked her up as she continued shaking. The orgasm slowly receded as he carried her to the other sarcophagus.

Spike set her down on the floor, and she opened her eyes to find he was still hard, the head of his cock a deep purple. B gave a little cry and tried to move towards him, but her limbs wouldn’t cooperate.

“Hush, luv, I’m fine. Just hang on a tick.”

She stilled, ashamed to not have asked what he wanted first.

He opened the lid of the sarcophagus she was sitting against, then retrieved a rag and water bottle from the other. He cleaned his cock, shuddering slightly as he wiped it, and she felt odd all over again that he was still in need. Spike helped her stand and washed between her legs, making her whimper. He picked her up and set her onto the bedding in the sarcophagus, then spent a few moments gathering their clothes and shoving everything into the other tomb before closing the lid and jumping in beside her.

He reached up and shut the lid over him.

In the darkness, she pressed herself against him and teetered on the edge of tears.

“Spike’s here,” he whispered. “I’ve got you, luv.” They were laying on their sides, facing each other, and he brought her leg over his hip. His hand stroked between her legs, then he positioned his cock and pressed deep into her pussy.

She pulsed her inner muscles, glad for the anchor of his body.

His hand trailed up her body, stopped to briefly cup her breast, then he found her cheek and directed her mouth to his throat. “Drink,” he whispered.

She sunk her teeth in and pulled at his blood.

His cock pulsed and jerked, and he came with a sigh.

Whatever precipice she’d been on disappeared, and warmth filled her. Their love multiplied to infinity through the claim.

She released his neck and cuddled against his chest as he wrapped his arm around her and held her close.

Sleep was fast reaching for her, the kind that was peaceful, the kind that’d been missing in the Initiative. B was a puzzle put back together, and the motion of Spike’s hand as he pet her hair was hypnotic.

It was good to finally rest.


End file.
